Fallen
by KuzAnn
Summary: The sudden appearance of a deadly plague prompts Yugo and Adamai to consider a solution that would have been unthinkable just years ago: retrieve Qilby from his solitude and acquire his help in fighting the disease. Only time will tell if their decision was the right one. (Please note that this works off the character development from "Nothing".)
1. Necessary

Another day, another dozen dead of the Red Plague in Bonta. And he could only guess at how many more had died in the days it took for this letter to reach him. Yugo swallowed as well as his tight throat would allow and kept reading. Things looked more grim with every letter he received. Bonta's authorities were scrambling to contain the disease and tend to those already stricken by it, and no doubt it had taken Joris a lot of effort just to find the time to write this letter.

And there, near the end, was an outright plea: '_I know that much of your culture was lost, but still there might be something. If you can find anything to help, please do so. The people of Bonta are suffering, and we have received reports that the Red Plague has also appeared among most of our allies, including Sadida. We need all the help we can possibly get.'_

"More bad news?"

Yugo looked up at the sound of his brother's voice, and turned to find that Adamaï had entered his room while he was reading. The dragon's voice had deepened over the past few years to match his growing bulk, a stark contrast to the voice Yugo had heard when they first met; it was still a bit hard to recognize it when Adamaï was out of sight. That was just another new wonder for someone with a dragon as a twin brother—apparently the dragon experienced growth spurts several years after their Eliatrope sibling did, and then kept on growing. Adamaï's true form was already as tall as a dragoturkey at the shoulder, and he had begun to stoop forward as his arms thickened and became stronger, developing toward the day when they would eventually help support his massive body. He wore his human form now in order to fit inside the house.

"More dead," Yugo replied, his voice still rough with grief. He passed the letter to Adamaï, who took it carefully in his unnaturally white hands and began to read.

"That makes over two hundred now," Adamaï sighed, then paused as his eyes settled on the final plea at the letter's end.

"I can't just sit here," Yugo growled as he hopped down from his desk chair and began pacing the room. "There must be something we can do!" he did another circuit of the room, then paused when he noticed the conflicted expression on Adamaï's face. "What's up, Ad?"

Adamaï didn't look up at the question. At times his blue lips parted slightly as he tried to speak, only to close again as he thought better of it and tried to come up with another way to rephrase what he was about to say. "We can't just sit here and do nothing," he agreed finally, still not looking Yugo in the eye.

Yugo waited patiently in silence as he watched his brother; he had learned through years spent with his sibling that it was most effective to allow Adamaï to think rather than interrupting him mid-thought.

"I might know a way," Adamaï looked Yugo in the eye this time, and it was plain to see that he was not happy about what he would eventually have to say. "But I don't know if it's the right choice."

"Alright," Yugo found his desk chair again and plopped himself down on its cushioned seat, ready to hear Adamaï out.

Adamaï took a seat on Yugo's bed and tapped his clawed fingers on the bedstead, eyes focused on the rug in front of his feet as he mulled over what he was about to say next. "I told you about what happened between me and Qilby in the Zinit, right?" he looked up at Yugo.

"You did," even now, years after their battle, Yugo still felt a sharp twinge of regret whenever he thought of Qilby. Locking him away had been the logical choice, but it didn't make Yugo feel any better about what he did. There was simply no other way. Even the fact that he felt regret over what he did made him feel guilty; what Qilby had done to Adamaï, the scars his actions left, such things should have stirred a boiling rage in Yugo's heart every time he thought of the traitor. And yet, every time he thought of it he felt only sadness, which in turn made him feel guilty for not being more angry over what Qilby had done.

"It's something I remember him mentioning to me before he showed his true colors," Adamaï continued, turning his gaze back to the letter in his hands. It was slightly crumpled now thanks to his fingers, which had gone rigid as he thought of what they might have to do. "He said he was able to cure a lot of diseases with his research," Adamaï kept his eyes on the letter as he finished speaking. It had been eight years since the betrayal and Adamaï's possession by the shushu Anathar, and even now there were nights when he woke up silently screaming because of a nightmare in which he'd been taken again. He still harbored a hefty grudge against Qilby because of it, he was the first to admit that, but he didn't feel that it made him better for it. In a way he envied Yugo's ability to move past what happened, whether it be because of a noble heart or because he'd been spared the horror of being possessed by Anathar.

Yugo's mouth tightened, and he glanced down at the floor. He knew this suggestion was a hard one to make for Adamaï, especially after having comforted his brother on those difficult nights. It was possible those scars would never fade. "Ad..." Yugo looked up as he spoke, but Adamaï held up a hand for silence.

"No. I won't let people die because of a stupid grudge," Adamaï's jaw tightened and he got to his feet, now resolute in the course of action they would have to take. "I won't let myself be like him," he took a deep breath to steady himself, then looked up at Yugo. "We need to talk to Baltazar about this before we do anything. It's only right."

"He should've heard us by now," Yugo slid down from the chair again to stand before his brother. "Be ready to give Wakfu for the passage."

As if on cue, a glowing circle appeared in the air behind Adamaï and spiraled out into dozens of intricate curves and lines. In moments the zaap was fully formed and ready to take them to Emrub, timeless home of the Eliatrope people. The sudden drop in the Wakfu their bodies contained was expected, but unpleasant nonetheless—such was the toll for traveling between the dimensions, since the pair refused to ask that the children give Wakfu to bring them there.

"It is good to see you again, my king," Baltazar's deep, husky voice greeted them as their feet touched the grass of one of Emrub's many planetoids, and they looked up to find that the dragon was seated immediately before them now. His scales had faded from age long ago, and his eyes were lined by thick wrinkles; already ancient when he had been tasked with looking after the children, Baltazar had been forced to spend thousands of years stuck with a body that didn't work as well as he needed it to. Even past the wrinkles and general worn look that Baltazar had, the two brothers could clearly see that he was troubled by their proposal, despite the warm greeting.

Baltazar looked slowly around at the crowd of Eliatrope children that now surrounded them and gestured toward one of the nearby planetoids with a nod of his head, "Leave us for now, children. You will be able to visit with your king in good time."

The children's faces held a mix of uncertainty and worry as they looked up at Baltazar, but they obeyed nonetheless and left the planetoid in brief flashes of pale blue light.

With the children out of earshot and unable to interrupt, Baltazar returned his attention to Yugo and Adamaï. "I have heard what Adamaï proposed," one stubby paw worked at the grass beneath him as he spoke. It was obvious that he was agitated by the proposal, being the only dragon left alive who had personally witnessed Qilby's treachery. "I am not sure such would be the best course of action," Baltazar continued, slow and careful as he selected each word. "How severe is this plague you mentioned?"

"At least two hundred dead and still spreading," Yugo replied. His frown deepened, his fingers curled into fists, and his face became tinged with a blush of anger as he looked up at Baltazar, "Are you suggesting that we sit here and wait for more to die before we do something? How many do you want dead before we try?" Even past the anger it was clear that Yugo was close to tears—he couldn't bear the thought that so many were suffering already, and that many more might still have to die.

"Yugo," Adamaï set one hand on Yugo's shoulder, and his twin flinched and looked to him instead, his anger temporarily diverted. "You know that's not why Baltazar is saying this."

"Sorry," Yugo's arms slowly relaxed as the anger died down. He sniffed loudly, and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. It helped, but a light shade of red still remained on his forehead and draped across his cheeks.

"Baltazar, this is an opportunity to make a proper place for our people on the World of Twelve," Adamaï looked up at Baltazar as he spoke, his hand still on Yugo's shoulder. "We can't let our hatred overpower our respect for life. We saved the people of the World of Twelve before, so why should we abandon them to such a horrible fate now?"

"The Traitor will only betray us again," Baltazar grumbled, his voice tired. Such a fact should have been obvious even to someone who did not witness the massacre all those millennia ago, but Baltazar knew that the brothers—Yugo in particular—would not leave the issue alone until a solution was found. "After thousands of years of solitude he still did not learn his lesson, he betrayed our people again as soon as he was released. Even if he were to succeed in finding a cure he would only turn on us at the first opportunity," he continued. "How do you intend to keep him from doing so?"

"Qilby got us last time because we didn't know what he was," Adamaï replied, his voice firm and patient. "That advantage is gone now, we won't be tricked again."

"You do not know that," Baltazar's tail flicked in anger, but his voice remained level.

"And what will our allies think if they find out we had a solution but chose not to use it? How will preventing something that _might_ happenbe any comfort to those who lost loved ones?" Yugo asked. "There must be a way we can keep him under control once we let him out."

Baltazar let out a long, rumbling sigh and stared up into the dark blue mass that was Emrub's sky. It wasn't what _might _happen; Baltazar was sure that Qilby would betray them again sooner or later. He despised the idea of ending Qilby's solitude prematurely, but there was more to think of than his hatred at the moment; such a service done for the World of Twelve would go a long way toward winning acceptance for their people, and an end to their long stay in Emrub. It wasn't fair to let more die when the traitor might be useful, and it wasn't fair to make the children keep waiting for their freedom either. They could always throw Qilby back into the Blank Dimension as soon as he started causing trouble, too. "Give me some time," he said finally as he looked back down at them. "If I can find a solution then we will go through with your plan."

"Thank you, Baltazar," Yugo gave the ancient dragon a nod of thanks which was mirrored by his brother, and the two left Baltazar to his own thoughts.

The twins used the available time to talk with the Eliatrope children, sharing stories of their adventures and listening to the stories the children had to tell of the old days, back when the World of Twelve belonged only to the Eliatropes and their dragon brothers. They had just begun admiring the various arts and crafts made by their subjects when a small blue orb flashed before them and led their gaze to the planetoid that Baltazar was still seated on. The dragon was sitting up, the Eliacube cupped in his front claws as he waited for the pair to return.

"I have consulted the Eliacube," Baltazar began as Yugo and Adamaï landed on the lush grass before him. "And I have found as good a solution as any," he held the Eliacube before them, Wakfu arcing from his claws to the device as he sought the design he was after. The transparent image of an apparently-plain metal collar appeared above the Eliacube, accompanied by various diagrams and notes written in Draconic. "The typical function of this device restricts the wearer's ability to channel Wakfu by drastically reducing its flow to the head. With the help of the Eliacube's computations I will also be able to add a new functionality: no lie will be allowed to pass the wearer's lips."

"Do you have everything you need to make it?" Yugo asked, watching as the Eliacube dimmed again and the diagrams vanished.

"Materials from Emrub are weakened when taken into the main dimension," Baltazar replied. "We will need materials from the World of Twelve in order to make it properly."

"Give us the list, we'll get everything you need," Adamaï straightened slightly, firm in his decision to take action. He refused to let a mere grudge slow him down when there were lives to be saved.

* * *

The materials were easy enough to acquire: various metals that could be purchased from local merchants, and the extra Wakfu Baltazar would need for shaping and laying the enchantments on the collar would be taken from the Crimson Dofus. Soon the brothers were back in Emrub, watching as Baltazar forged the collar with the help of the Eliacube and Shinonome's Dofus. Yugo had been expecting some sort of input from Qilby's sister on the matters at hand, but it seemed she had long since fallen dormant; she remained silent as Baltazar prepared the collar, even as her Wakfu was being drawn to make it. Spell engravings were mirrored on two strips of metal which were pressed together and welded to keep them from being easily tampered with, then the piece was formed into a half-circle.

Before long Baltazar held the cooling metal collar in his front paws, examining it for any flaws before they began the next step of their operation. For now it was in two pieces—each a mirror of the other—that would clamp together once placed around the neck for a perfect fit. "I will create the lock code myself," Baltazar said as the Eliacube floated closer. "And now we must fetch the traitor from his solitude," he made an attempt to hide the distaste in his voice, but it still came through just enough for Yugo and Adamaï to notice. Necessary as this path was, there was nothing to stop Baltazar from being unhappy about it.

Yugo nodded, though his heart twinged with a mix of fear and guilt as he thought of the Blank Dimension and its lonely occupant. "I'm ready," he said.

"Want me to come with?" Adamaï offered, having sensed his brother's apprehension. He had taken on his true form upon reaching Emrub, and stood several feet higher than Yugo now.

"No, I can do it," Yugo replied. Privately he wondered how Qilby would react, and whether he _would_ end up causing trouble again. It was impossible to know with someone like him, and all Yugo could do at this point was stand firm and hope that he was making the right choice.

An intricate zaap opened before Yugo, but this time it would not lead him home. This time its other end opened into the Blank Dimension, where the traitor to his people was trapped. Yugo paused just before the zaap and took a deep breath, then stepped through and into the infinite white landscape of Qilby's prison.

It seemed as empty and unnerving as when he'd been there last, and Yugo glanced over his shoulder to check that the zaap was still there. It was. Baltazar was keeping it open for the sake of Yugo's nerves, and it wasn't as if the prisoner would be going anywhere if he managed to sneak past; Baltazar would probably sit on Qilby the moment he stepped through by himself. Yugo turned back to the endless expanse of white that lay before him, and down. Qilby had to be around here somewhere, it wasn't as if he could leave.

A droplet came into contact with Yugo's face and splattered as he searched, and he looked up to find just the Eliatrope he'd been searching for. Yugo pushed off and drifted up to where Qilby floated like a drowned man in the pale abyss and soon discovered where the droplet had come from; one final tear still managed to cling to Qilby's face. Yugo wondered just who he'd been crying for as he took a moment to look at him more carefully: Qilby was thin as always and more ragged than usual thanks to their fight, and from what Yugo could see all traces of the Eliacube's influence were gone. No more blackened nails or hair bleached blonde after the flow of power had ebbed away. Both had faded back to their normal colors, and the blue residue of power that had clung to the stump of Qilby's left arm was completely gone, leaving the ugly scars entirely visible. Yugo felt his stomach lurch at the sight of it—the scars from the initial attack by Phaeris remained, and on top of those were what appeared to be sear marks running from the stump to Qilby's shoulder. A lasting mark left by the flow of the Eliacube's power.

Yugo drifted to Qilby's right side and took his intact arm in one hand, what remained of the other being mercifully out of sight from this position.

The children had been asked to remain on the neighboring planetoids while Qilby was dealt with, leaving the two dragons completely alone as they awaited Yugo's return. They straightened slightly when Yugo emerged from the portal, as if they were ready for the traitor to spring up and make a run for it at any time.

Qilby remained limp and silent as Yugo passed through the zaap with him, apparently so drained that he was unable to move on his own. The young Eliatrope lowered him to the grass once they were through, allowing him to come to rest on his back.

"Here, Yugo," Baltazar held the collar pieces out to the young Eliatrope. "It is ready, put it on him now."

"No," Yugo shook his head. "I want it to be his choice."

"_His choice_?" Baltazar spluttered, almost unable to believe his ears. "What will you do if he says _no_?"

"You _really_ think he's going to say no?" Adamaï glanced up from where he crouched beside Qilby, an incredulous look on his face.

"A mere technicality if that is the case," Baltazar snapped, annoyed at being talked back to by a dragon so much younger than him, king or no. "He would never willingly choose to go back to the Blank Dimension, so why bother?"

"Because a collar like that has implications on the World of Twelve that you might not know about," Adamaï replied.

Yugo had taken a seat beside Qilby while Adamaï spoke, and now he looked up at Baltazar as he carried on from where his brother left off, "Some use metal collars to declare ownership over others, against their will." From the look on Yugo's face it was obvious that the mere thought of owning another sentient being disgusted him, and in truth he had been wrestling with the issue for some time.

"And this particular collar _does not_ do so. It is a security measure to help ensure that he does not betray us again. He is otherwise _free_," Baltazar's massive lips curled in disgust at the word. "To do as he pleases providing it does not do harm to us or to the World of Twelve," he set the two halves on the grass before him, in easy reach of Yugo. "In any case it is too late to debate the ethics of this decision now. The Traitor will repay his crimes through service to the World of Twelve and the Eliatrope people, or he will return to the Blank Dimension. Those are his only two options," Baltazar briefly considered bringing up those dying of the Red Plague again, but it was a reasonable guess that Yugo and Adamaï already had them in mind; the brothers were not likely to forget the very reason they had opted to remove Qilby from his solitude in the first place.

"Alright," Yugo said with a sigh. "But I still want to give him the choice."

Baltazar resisted the urge to grumble aloud; if such a little thing would stop Yugo from being bothered about the issue it then was a small price to pay. There was no chance of Qilby saying no in any case, even with his natural power suppressed and the ability to lie eliminated; as Baltazar had said before, asking was merely a technicality and nothing more, and it was certainly more courteous than what Qilby deserved for what he'd done.

Time dragged by in silence as the group waited for Qilby to regain full consciousness. Finally one heavy-lidded eye cracked open, and the pupil slid down and to the side until it came to rest on Yugo's face. Qilby blinked, and his eyebrows drew together in a troubled frown as he tried to piece together what was happening.

"Yugo...?" the name came with an unspoken question as Qilby opened both eyes and turned his head to face Yugo: _Why am I here?_

The younger Eliatrope knew full well that he would have to choose his words wisely, but now he was at a loss for what to say. What _did_ you say in a circumstance like this? There was always the blunt approach: _Here are your two options, find a cure for the Red Plague or return to the Blank Dimension and serve your time there._ But stating it like that made him feel like a tyrant. Yugo took a breath to begin speaking, but Adamaï cut in before so much as a word left the young Eliatrope's mouth.

"The World of Twelve needs your help, Qilby," Adamaï stood to his full height as Qilby looked at him. "You have two options. Find a cure for the Red Plague that has fallen upon the people of the World of Twelve, or return to the Blank Dimension. It's your choice."

"You will also be wearing this collar," Baltazar tapped one of the collar pieces with one claw. "You will be unable to use your powers, and unable to lie."

"And then I'll be sent back once I've done it for you," Qilby's voice held little energy as he spoke, and he stared dispassionately up at the blank sky of Emrub rather than looking at anyone else in the group. "Right?"

"I don't want that," Yugo spoke before he could stop himself. It was the truth, he would rather have Qilby out in the world trying to help others rather than wasting away in the Blank Dimension. And perhaps, he would be able to find a little healing for himself as well.

"Yugo—" Baltazar's voice rose in warning, but Yugo spoke over him as he got to his feet.

"I'd rather not send you back to the Blank Dimension once this is over, Qilby," Yugo had grown noticeably in the years since he and Qilby last fought, and now he drew himself up to his full height. It was still shorter than Qilby would have been if he were standing, but tall enough to tower over him while he was on the ground. "If you don't cause trouble I'd like to keep you out here with us, where you can do some good instead."

"But I deserve to be locked in the Blank Dimension, don't I?" Qilby asked wearily, still avoiding eye contact with Yugo. He seemed listless, like he had completely resigned himself to his fate regardless of what it would be.

The reply was entirely unexpected to Yugo. Qilby actually questioning whether he deserved to be out of his prison, rather than immediately decrying it as an unjust punishment? Yugo himself still wasn't entirely sure of what _would_ be the just thing to do in this case, though those who witnessed the treachery would undoubtedly state that he belonged there.

"Of course you deserve it," Baltazar rumbled. "But we do not have the luxury of letting you rot in solitude at the moment," he pushed the two collar pieces toward Yugo, careful to keep them from touching each other. "Ask your question my king, so we may stop wasting time and begin to work on solving the problem at hand," he gave Yugo a respectful incline of his head and sat back again.

"Right," Yugo stooped to pick up the collar pieces. They felt unusually heavy, and slightly warm either from their forging or from the power that flowed through them even now. He straightened and turned to Qilby, one half held in each hand. "Will you help us?"

This time Qilby turned his head to face Yugo, and he spent a few moments staring at the younger Eliatrope and the collar pieces. "Really only one option, isn't there? I'll help," he said finally. He turned onto his right side and pushed himself up into a sitting position where he waited for Yugo to put the collar on him, hair held off to the side by one hand.

The collar pieces snapped together as if drawn by a magnet as soon as they were brought close to each other. It was a snug fit, but still loose enough to fit a finger or two between collar and skin for the sake of comfort. Qilby released his hair and put a hand on the battered hat that he still wore even now. "No use for this anymore," he removed the hat, revealing that his Wakfu wings—already dim from his time spent in the Blank Dimension—were rapidly fading away.

Yugo found the sight inexplicably disturbing, perhaps due to the fact that the wings were like another set of limbs in and of themselves for an Eliatrope—to see them just fade away like that was more than a little horrifying.

"Seems fitting enough," Qilby mused to himself as he passed his hand over the place where one of the wings had been, a humorless smile on his face. "So, when do I start?"

* * *

**A/N: **Please note that this fic has been AU'd to after the Wakfu "manga" and before the OVAs; I won't be able to gauge whether they can be properly aligned until Season 3 has come out.


	2. Surreality

"Never thought I'd willingly come back here again," Adamaï growled as the trio stepped through the zaap and into the charred remains of Qilby's laboratory. Without thinking he lifted a front claw and felt the dark scar that ran down his left eye, the one Qilby had given him during their duel. It served as a constant reminder of his folly all those years ago, and what came of trusting so freely. He frowned as he thought again of what they had just done and hoped that it was the right choice to make, but at least this time they wouldn't be so foolish as to give Qilby their trust.

Baltazar had managed to put them down on the long dais that lined the backmost wall of the lab, where shelf upon shelf of books rose to the ceiling high above. A small globe of fire conjured by Adamaï served as their only illumination, leaving the rest of the lab a mass of darkness and shadow. Adamaï noted that this part of the lab was at least much less creepy than the part Qilby had first shown him, it even seemed relatively benign if you forgot about the front part of the chamber. The fires started during Adamaï's duel with Qilby had mostly remained near the frontmost part of the lab, though a few stray pieces of debris had even managed to find their way onto the dais itself. Every area that had been touched by fire was now left in smoke-stained shadow, adding to the chamber's gloomy atmosphere.

Yugo tilted his head back to try to take in the entirety of the bookshelves before them; they even had balconies built onto them at each level with spiral stairs to connect them. "How am I supposed to know which books to look for?" he turned to look at Qilby, who was making his way around a stray piece of glass to get a better look at the shelves.

"You can read Draconic, can't you?" Qilby glanced back at Yugo as he asked the question, eyebrows raised to reflect his genuine—if worried—inquiry.

"Aahm..." Yugo's face reddened and his gaze wandered down to the floor, too embarrassed to look Qilby in the eye. "Not very well...?"

"Grougal didn't have time to teach him," Adamaï added. He glared at the back of Qilby's head as if daring him to make a rude comment about Yugo's ignorance, and felt surprised at his own animosity; he hadn't been expecting to feel so upset over Qilby's return from the Blank Dimension since he had first suggested it himself, but he couldn't help feeling more than a little angry whenever he set his eyes on the old Eliatrope.

"But Phaeris should've been able to," Qilby replied, giving Adamaï a quick glance and looking away again just as quickly. "What has he been doing all this time?"

"Phaeris died seven years ago," Yugo looked up at Qilby again, having gotten over his embarrassment for the moment. "And we can't just go to Emrub whenever we want so Baltazar can't teach me either."

"Oh," a small hint of distress managed to work its way into Qilby's voice, but he didn't press for further details. "I'll tutor you if I have enough time. It's something both of you should know," he turned back to the shelves and started toward the nearest set of stairs. "Meet me on the second level. We'll work from there."

Ascending to the second level was the work of a moment for Yugo thanks to his zaaps, of which it only took a single set. Once up he turned to look back down at the pair still on the ground, leaning on the ornate metal railing as he waited for them to make it up as well.

Adamaï spread his wings to follow and brought them down in one massive surge to pull himself up into the air, creating a gust almost large enough to knock Qilby off his feet in the process. He pretended not to have noticed the groundward results of his takeoff and instead flew up to where Yugo was waiting for them. Upon closer examination Adamaï could see that the balcony was too small for his body by several feet, and he accordingly shifted to his humanoid form and dropped himself onto its cool metal floor.

Yugo was wearing a slight frown as he watched Qilby climb up after them. Whether this was because he'd noticed what Adamaï had done or because he was simply thinking on the matter at hand, the dragon could not guess; he hoped it was the later.

Qilby was winded by the time he reached the second level, and he paused at the head of the stairs to catch his breath for a few moments while Yugo and Adamaï watched. "Right," Qilby straightened, his amber eyes settling on a section of shelf to their left. "My research on infectious diseases runs from here," he walked forward and placed a hand on the section, then moved until he had covered several divisions of shelving "to here."

"So do we just take all of it?" Yugo pushed off the railing and looked up at the section—its length easily contained several hundred books, most likely more.

"Are we able to come back if I end up needing one of the books that got left behind?" Qilby asked, eyes still on the shelves.

"No, we can't just hop to and from Emrub whenever we want," Adamaï replied. "We brought a haven bag anyway, it should all fit in there." He put the bag on the floor between them; it was the same bag that had held the materials for forging Qilby's collar, and was now empty with that task done.

"Well, let's get to it, then," Qilby walked back to the start of the section and removed one of the books—so large that he could only handle one with his single intact arm—from the highest shelf.

* * *

It was taking Baltazar longer than usual to hear them this time. The trio stood idly on the platform before the large dark gap in the shelves' book collection as they waited, the bag containing Qilby's precious research slung over Yugo's shoulder by its strap.

Adamaï tapped a foot on the metal flooring, causing an echo that reverberated throughout the massive laboratory, and hoped that Baltazar would notice them soon. Anxiety had begun creeping in after spending more than five minutes in this place; it still reminded him of the confrontation, especially if he happened to look at the charred and broken containment tubes near the center of the chamber. The sooner they left, the better he would feel.

"Usually doesn't take this long," Yugo muttered, having noticed Adamaï's agitation. He readjusted the shoulder strap of his bag and pushed off the railing to pace the length of floor between it and the shelves.

"Do you go to Emrub often?"

Qilby's voice snapped the two brothers out of their respective musings, and they both looked up at him. He stood stiff and uneasy, evidently not happy to be lingering in the lab either.

"No, we've gone maybe half a dozen times since finding out about it," Yugo replied, unsure as to where Qilby might be going with this.

"Emrub exists as a dimension beyond time, it's not surprising to think that it might not always sync up with the main dimension's flow," Qilby appeared to be thinking over the issue himself as he spoke. "It's a possibility, anyway. You might not have noticed until now because of how infrequently you visit."

A blue pinpoint of light flashed briefly before Yugo, then blossomed into the zaap that would take them back to Emrub—Baltazar had finally heard their call.

They stepped through and the zaap vanished, leaving the remains of Qilby's laboratory in darkness once again.

* * *

Yugo and Adamaï had told their father Alibert of their plan to bring Qilby back and had received his approval, and they'd even agreed to move Adamaï back into his brother's room in order to free up a place for their guest to stay in when the time came. Adamaï had liked having his own room, but the current situation was preferable to having Qilby in a place where it would be harder to keep an eye on him. Baltazar's zaap put them in the yard behind the inn, and they entered to find Alibert in the kitchen preparing a meal for one of his customers.

"Welcome back Yugo, Adamaï," Alibert gave his two adoptive sons a warm smile as he loaded up a tray. "How did it go?"

"Good," Yugo turned to see if Qilby had followed them in, and was relieved to see that he had done just that. He noticed that the old Eliatrope was even stooping a bit as if he were attempting to hide behind Yugo and his brother, a futile attempt given how tall Qilby was. "Are Grougal and Chibi around?" he turned back to Alibert, and silently hoped that the pair of younger brothers wouldn't be around to see Qilby, at least for now.

"Out playing," Alibert replied as he lifted the tray. "Might be best to leave them to it for now," he added. Though Alibert had not personally witnessed Qilby's treachery, he _had _been forced to deal with the aftermath of Grougal's disappearance. And he had also witnessed the fit of fiery anger that Grougal had thrown himself into at the mere suggestion that Qilby would be retrieved from the Blank Dimension. It would be best to move slowly, for the sake of everyone involved and for the inn itself.

Alibert looked up at Qilby for the first time and dithered on what he wanted to say to him—the whole situation felt awkward given Qilby's traitor status, so even a remotely warm greeting would never do in this case. Even the way Qilby was dressed now added to the unease in the air, partially because of how awkwardly the old Eliatrope was holding himself. Finally he sighed and looked back to Yugo, "Get him settled in before Grougal and Chibi get back, maybe it'll be easier if he just doesn't see him for a while."

"Yeah," Yugo nodded and turned to Qilby again. "Follow us."

Adamaï's old room had been emptied of all personal belongings soon after they had settled on bringing Qilby back, and was now bare save for a narrow bed, a desk that stood below the window with its chair, and a few vacant bookcases that lined one wall. It was located directly next to the room that Yugo and Adamaï now shared, which would allow them to keep an eye on Qilby without him intruding too much on their personal lives.

"Here's where you'll be staying," Yugo led the way in, stopping at the desk to plunk his bag down on its worn wooden surface.

Qilby followed without a word, Adamaï close behind him. He seemed to be in a daze, as if he still couldn't quite believe what was happening, and he gave the floor an unfocused stare as he took a seat on the bed. After few long moments of silence Qilby looked up at Yugo, "What information do you have on the plague?"

Yugo paused as he thought of the details Joris had shared with him via letter. "Be right back," he dashed from the room and into his own, where he dug the letters from Joris out of the desk drawer he'd been keeping them in. One... Two... Yugo singled out the letters that mentioned the plague—four in all and spanning the course of a month—and returned with them to the room where Adamaï and Qilby waited. "Here," he slowed to a halt in front of the bed and handed the letters to Qilby, who accepted them and laid them out on the bedspread beside him where he would be able to handle them more easily.

Adamaï strode over from where he'd been leaning on the wall by the door and watched as Qilby read the letters. Where Qilby had seemed disoriented before, his expression was now focused and slightly troubled as he read the details of the Red Plague that had been shared in Joris's letters. The young dragon hoped that meant they would be able to count on Qilby to work as quickly as possible in finding a cure, and that he wasn't just putting on an act while he thought up something unpleasant—Baltazar had only mentioned that the collar prevented the actual _telling_ of lies, not that it made the wearer honest via body language as well. It would be yet another reason to keep a close eye on Qilby in the weeks to come.

"It's a start," Qilby said as he flipped the final page of the last letter. "I'll be able to begin narrowing down the suspects with this, but I'm going to need more concrete information on it before I can find a solution," he pushed himself upright, still looking down at the letters as he did so. "If you could get some paper and a pen I'll start on that now," he scooped the letters up and offered them back to Yugo.

"Such as...?" Yugo asked hesitantly as he accepted the stack of letters.

"How it spreads, progression of symptoms, any treatments they may have tried," Qilby replied. "Preferably from someone who has experience in such fields," he shivered briefly as he sat back on the bed. It was no surprise given that he had only a ragged pair of pants on at the moment, which while baggy still left his chest and feet exposed to the cold.

"Joris will probably know someone," Yugo turned to Adamaï, then jerked his head toward the door.

The dragon followed Yugo out into the hall, one ear still on Qilby and the other on what Yugo had to say.

"Could you go get Joris in person?" Yugo kept his voice low as he spoke.

Adamaï glanced back into the bedroom, where Qilby's feet were just visible beyond the doorway. "You sure you want me to leave now when we still have Grougal to deal with?" The young dragon was sure to pitch a fit once he knew Qilby was here, and while Yugo was better able to reason with Grougal he still worried that his brother would be unable to handle things should the black dragon's rage get out of hand. _And what if something happened while he was gone?_ Unwanted memories of what happened when Yugo left him and Qilby behind began to surface as well, but Adamaï brushed them off and assured himself that Yugo would be able to handle things. Yugo had defeated the older Eliatope once, and without the boost from using the Eliacube Qilby would be no match for Yugo anyway.

"I can hold Grougal off until you get back," Yugo assured him. "You travel faster than me, and the sooner we get what we need the better."

It made sense. Adamaï was strong enough to fly long distance with very few stops these days, and he could even carry one to two passengers on his back while doing it; someone as small as Master Joris would be no problem. "Alright," the dragon nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Ad," Yugo gave his brother a genuine smile, relieved to have that order of business out of the way. "I think I'm gonna have to go visit the tailor today," he added as a thought struck him.

"Yeah, would be a bit awkward to have him walking around half-naked all the time," Adamaï's voice held a touch of humor as he looked sidelong into the room again, but Qilby had still not moved from where they left him earlier. "And nothing we have here would ever fit him." He turned back to Yugo, "I'll get together what I need and plan a route while you do that."

* * *

Grougaloragran was lurking somewhere nearby, Yugo was sure of it. Chibi had already come inside and greeted his older "brother" with his usual cheer and was now doing a few of his daily chores, but Grougal was nowhere to be seen. This could prove to be a very big problem if the dragonet happened upon Qilby with no one around to intervene.

Yugo settled for lingering around Qilby's room for the time being, just to be sure that he was within reach in case Grougal tried something. No sound save for the rustle of turning pages and the scratch of a pen could be heard from the room, and Qilby was seated and working at the desk every time Yugo leaned through the doorway to have a look. The old Eliatrope still wore the same clothes that he came out of the blank dimension with, despite the brief visit from the village tailor earlier—the man would need time to fill with order, since no customer he'd dealt with before had been as tall as Qilby was.

There had been no complaint from Qilby over this in any case, and he had simply gone back to work once the tailor finished. Several of the thick books taken from the lab had been laid out to various pages on either side of the desk and even on the bed, their written contents only readable to the old Eliatrope himself. It made Yugo curious, but he hesitated on asking what diseases the open pages covered; that would only take up time, and he would be properly learning to read Draconic eventually anyway.

He settled on searching for Grougal again instead, leaving Qilby to his work. A passing check of all the usual nooks and crannies—on the tops of bookshelves, in cupboards, under chairs and tables—that the dragonet tended to hide in when he was feeling sulky turned up empty, much to Yugo's worry. He spotted Chibi in the family dining room as the younger Eliatrope wandered past, a large letter held carefully in both hands. "Chibi?"

"Hmm?" Chibi looked up at Yugo, his mind obviously still elsewhere for a few moments. "Yeah?" he asked, his eyes properly focusing on Yugo as his thoughts returned to the present.

"Have you seen Grougal around? I think he's sulking somewhere but I can't find him."

Chibi paused to think on the matter for a moment. "He said he had to do something when we came in, but not what," his expression became worried as he realized what that might mean. "Is he doing something bad?" and there was the familiar tone of weary apology in Chibi's voice now, as if he was just waiting to be told of the next bit of harassment that his brother had dumped on someone.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Yugo ducked to look under the dining table again, just in case: no Grougal. "Just keep an eye out for him if you can."

"M'kay," Chibi nodded. Being Grougal's twin, he knew the mischief his dragon brother could get into—both innocent and otherwise—very well despite having never been the target of it himself. Grougal saw his twin as off-limits in that respect, but it didn't stop Chibi from feeling embarrassed every time he acted out. "I'll ask him to come read Nia's letter with me if I see him," he added, half to himself as he started to turn away.

Yugo paused to watch Chibi go, then decided to check outside. The bushes beneath the window to the room Qilby was staying in turned up no sign of Grougal himself, though a closer inspection revealed a few footprints that belonged to him. So the dragonet had been here under the window at some point... He straightened and glanced into the room; Qilby was still at the desk, the top of his head to the window while he worked. It was still so unnerving to see the lack of hat and wings... Yugo's eyes wandered to the doorway beyond, and he spotted a brief flicker of black scales against the shadows of the hallway as something darted past. _There he was!_ He dashed around to the nearest door and rushed to the hallway, cutting corners with a few well-aimed zaaps to save time.

The dragonet had managed to disappear again by the time Yugo arrived. He let out a short sigh of frustration and rolled his eyes; why couldn't Grougal be more reasonable, like his brother? And then there was the fact that Grougal was starting to come into his transformation magic, which made him even more difficult to deal with—it made him even more skilled at causing trouble on the sly. Yugo was starting to wonder whether sending Adamaï to get Joris was the right thing to do when he noticed that the sound of the scratching pen had stopped.

Qilby set his pen down as his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, then braced his hand against the table and pushed himself to his feet. He turned to the door, spotted Yugo, and seemed to fall into a momentary daze as he stared at the younger Eliatrope. A small hint of color settled on his pale face as he struggled with what he wanted to say. "...I figured it would be a good time to ask if I could have something to eat," he said finally, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

"Oh. Yeah, of course," Yugo hadn't known what to expect Qilby to say, but it certainly hadn't been that. "I'll make something up for you," he mentally slapped himself for not thinking of it earlier as he waved for Qilby to follow him to the kitchen. When _was_ the last time Qilby had eaten, anyway? Obviously in real time it had been literal _years_ since he'd eaten anything and the Blank Dimension didn't allow its occupant to waste away from hunger, but had he eaten at all between disappearing from Sadida and turning up at the Crimson Claws Archipelago with Rushu?

The two walked down the hall single file with Qilby following just a short distance behind Yugo. With their minds both focused on other things, they failed to notice the quiet rustling of claws on the floorboards behind them as Grougal took aim.

Qilby let out a surprised yelp as Grougal slammed head first into his back with a loud _thwump_. He crumpled, first falling to his knees, then collapsing entirely as he lost the strength to hold himself up with his single arm.

"_Grougal!_" Yugo snapped, turning just in time to spot the dragonet flying for the opposite end of the hallway again. He threw a zaap in front of the fleeing black dragon and opened its companion just beside him, where he would be able to apprehend Grougal and give him a good talking-to.

Grougal slowed as the zaap appeared just in front of him, but it was already too late—his momentum was too great, and there was nothing that could stop him in midair now. He sailed through the zaap and straight into Yugo's waiting hands.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Grougal?" Yugo's voice deepened slightly and took on a more authoritative tone as he addressed the dragonet, who he held at eye level in both hands as he spoke.

"Giving him what he deserves!" Grougal snapped, giving Yugo a heated glare of defiance. "He's a dirty traitor and he deserves every bad thing he gets!" he shook his front paws for emphasis, his expression making it absolutely clear that he was just short of giving Yugo a face full of fire at this point.

"What have we told you about taking revenge, Grougal?" Yugo asked, having decided to sidestep the topic of what Qilby deserved for the time being. For now the biggest concern was the vengeful streak Grougal happened to be indulging, something that he and Adamaï had been trying to curb for some time.

"I'm being _careful_," Grougal snarled. He'd heard the lectures many times over about revenge destroying the things you love in the end, but he figured that wouldn't apply as long as he was _careful _about it. The better your aim, the lesser your chance of hitting an unintended target.

A quiet groan from Qilby interrupted their debate, and he slowly pushed himself up with his arm as they watched. "I'm..." he coughed and paused to catch his breath, the sentence remaining unfinished because the collar restricted him from uttering even the small lie of "I'm alright" when such was clearly not the case. "Got me in the left kidney..." he offered weakly as he slumped against the wall.

Yugo turned back to Grougal in time to spot the venom-filled glare that the dragonet was directing at Qilby. "Grougal," he began. The dragonet's obvious hatred wasn't something that could be solved with a single discussion, and they'd already tried as much several times... Yugo let out a long sigh as he realized what a long day it had actually been what with going to Emrub, retrieving Qilby, fetching the research material, helping Adamaï pack, talking with the tailor, and last but not least trying to stop Grougaloragran from doing something nasty to Qilby when he saw him. "Just go be with Chibi for a while," Yugo said finally, turning to let the dragonet free in the hallway ahead. "Another letter from Nia came today, why don't you go read it?"

Grougal hopped out of Yugo's open arms and onto the floor, still giving Qilby a dirty look as he landed. This wouldn't be the end of it, not by a long shot, but Grougal would just have to settle for giving Qilby a badly bruised back for the time being. "Hmph," Grougal grumbled with an angry toss of his head. "I've got better stuff to do anyway..." He left the floor in a leap and flew down the hallway, still-small wings producing a quiet fluttering noise as he went.

"You alright?" Yugo offered a hand to Qilby, who still knelt on the floor.

"Not sure," Qilby still sounded winded from the attack, but he accepted Yugo's assistance and allowed the younger Eliatrope to pull him to his feet. "A blow to a kidney can be serious, but I don't think he hit me hard enough." His face was a bit paler than usual and his voice still somewhat strained from the pain. "I hope," he added, gingerly feeling the darkening bruise with the back of his right hand and wincing as he touched it.

"Let's get to the kitchen," Yugo restrained the desire to get a look at the bruise and instead started down the hall again, checking frequently to make sure Qilby was still following him. He could always check the bruise once Qilby was seated and no longer in danger of falling over.

Alibert met them as they entered the kitchen, a tray laden with dirty dishes in his hands. "Yugo," his expression brightened slightly upon seeing his son, but there was still a hint of worry as he glanced at Qilby. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just getting some food," Yugo replied.

"Good, good. Think you could make a few orders of gobball stew for me while you're in here? It's getting busy out there," Alibert nodded toward the door that led to the common room, through which the muffled, content conversation and laughter of the inn's guests could be heard.

"Dinner rush already, huh?" Yugo glanced at the stew pot and the counters surrounding it and found that the necessary ingredients and utensils had already been laid out; Alibert had been preparing to make the stew himself when Yugo and Qilby arrived. "Yeah, of course I can. Just let me finish something up first."

"Thanks, Yugo. I'll need four servings of gobball stew for now," Alibert gave Yugo an appreciative smile and placed the dirty dishes beside the sink where he would be able to wash them later. He then placed the empty tray under one arm and returned to the inn's common room, where the guests were waiting for him.

Yugo waved Qilby over to the kitchen's single plain table and got to work. He glanced at Qilby as he put on the gobball steaks to grill; Qilby was slouched slightly to his right—most likely because of the massive, ugly bruise that marked the left side of his lower back—with his elbow propped on the tabletop and his chin resting in the cup of his hand as he stared blankly at the opposite wall, apparently lost in thought. It seemed impossible to shake the surreality of it all after what happened eight years ago. To think that _Qilby_ of all people was in his kitchen now, just sitting there at the table. And how he acted so... _Subdued._ He'd been low-key when they first met of course, but this... It was almost hard to believe they were the same person, and now it almost seemed like he'd given up, or that he just didn't care anymore.

The steaks were done, and the stock was coming along nicely. Yugo paused as he set a piece of meat aside for Qilby; it would be hard to cut up a steak like this with one hand, wouldn't it? Slicing up the meat was quick work anyway, and soon Yugo had a small mound of gobball cubes ready to be put on Qilby's serving of stew.

Qilby flinched as Yugo put the bowl in front of him; the sharp, quiet sound of ceramic on wood had been enough to snap him out of his reverie. "Thank you," the murmur was so quiet that Yugo thought he had imagined it for a moment, but the voice was certainly Qilby's.

Yugo gave him a nod of acknowledgement and returned to the pot, and after a few moments his curiosity assisted him in breaking the silence: "So how long's it been since you ate last?"

There came a quiet _click_ as Qilby set the spoon down on the bowl's edge. "Difficult to explain with the Blank Dimension involved," he began. "In literal time it's been years, but in _expressed_ time I haven't eaten in three days."

"_Three days?_" Yugo had a suspicion that such was the case, but he hadn't thought it would actually be true. "How'd you go three days without eating?"

"The Eliacube," Qilby replied. "Integrating it into your own body has various side effects, on top of the amplification of power," his tone regained some confidence as he continued. "It tricks the body into thinking it doesn't need to eat, which is partly true due to the power flowing through it—the Eliacube can provide what it needs to survive in pure energy form, but there are still limits to a biological body that cannot be changed. The user is also unable to sleep while under its direct influence, which—as you may have guessed—can create serious problems when it comes to mental stability and health."

Yugo grimaced at the bowl of stew he was preparing; he'd realized the Eliacube was dangerous long ago, and hearing what it did to those who used it in such detail made him glad that he'd never tried to use it in a similar way himself. The erratic, frantic way Qilby started acting toward the end of their confrontation all those years ago made more sense too now that he knew that. It didn't excuse Qilby's actions or behavior of course, but it helped explain how someone as collected as Qilby had come so... Unhinged, when combined with what he knew of the older Eliatrope's past. His current behavior was downright tame in comparison, it made Yugo wonder just what was going through Qilby's head at the moment.

False silence closed in, its depths humming with the contented murmur of conversation from the common room beyond, occasionally broken by the sound of a spoon tapping against the pot or a bowl as Yugo finished preparing the meals for their guests. He loaded up two trays and started toward the door, hesitating just before he made it through; Grougal could be lurking somewhere nearby again, and he didn't want to give him the opportunity to injure Qilby by being absent. Yugo poked his head through the doorway and searched the common room for his father. "Dad?" he called, having spotted Alibert near the inn's front counter.

Alibert looked up from his conversation with one of the newcomers and excused himself when he spotted Yugo with the trays. "Thanks, Yugo," he accepted the trays from Yugo, one in each hand, and started to move off into the room. "Would you be able to help more or are you occupied?"

Yugo glanced over his shoulder to get a look at Qilby, who was still sitting at the kitchen table slowly eating his dinner. Sleep would probably be the next thing Qilby needed given what he mentioned about the effects of the Eliacube, but Yugo could always keep working until then. "Yeah, I'll let you know when I need to stop," he replied.

"Then I'll get these out to our guests, and I'll need three more as well," Alibert paused to glance around the kitchen, checking to see if Grougal was there himself before returning to the common room.

The door swung shut, muffling the sounds of the common room once again. Yugo returned to the grill and put three more gobball steaks on, then turned his attention to the stew.

"I've been meaning to ask if the plague has made it to this region yet," Qilby placed his spoon on the tabletop as he spoke, his meal finished.

"Not that we know of," Yugo glanced over his shoulder as he flipped the steaks, and saw that Qilby was now watching him from where he sat at the table. "I'm pretty sure news like that would travel fast."

"It gives us a bit more time, at least," Qilby set his elbow on the tabletop and rested his head against his hand. "I don't have enough information to come to any solid conclusions yet, but from what I've heard of the disease it's strikingly similar to one I've dealt with before."

"Really?" Yugo raised his eyebrows in surprise as he looked back at Qilby. "So does that mean it'll be easier to cure?"

"As I said before, I'll need more information to be sure," Qilby replied. "I first encountered the disease thousands of years ago as well, it may have changed since then if it's even the same one."

"Oh," Yugo turned to the stew again, his hopes somewhat dashed. Still, if Qilby was this far along just from hearing about what the disease was like then surely he would be able to find a cure for it eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later with what was at stake. He tossed another glance over his shoulder and noticed that Qilby now appeared to be dozing, head still resting against his upturned hand.

Three days without sleep, without food, not to mention the misery that came of time spent in the Blank Dimension, no wonder Qilby felt tired. Now that he thought of it, Yugo was surprised that the older Eliatrope had been able to get as much work done as he did in the condition he was in. He hadn't looked well when they pulled him out of the Blank Dimension, and he still didn't look good even now. What the Eliacube had filled out while Qilby used it had receded during his stay in the Blank Dimension, leaving the outlines of his ribs and hips painfully apparent even in the gentler firelight of the kitchen. His face was pale and possessed more wrinkles than Yugo remembered, framed by light brown hair that was now limp and dull.

Yugo let Qilby doze as he continued cooking, trying to work as quietly as possible as he finished making the meals for Alibert; he didn't dare send Qilby off without accompanying him what with Grougal out and about, that was just asking for more trouble. He would have to stay nearby in case anything happened, if only to pull Grougal off of Qilby when the dragonet decided to make his move.

Once finished Yugo placed the last three meals on a tray and made his way to the doorway again. Alibert was watching for him this time and walked over to the doorway without Yugo having to call him. "I need to keep an eye on him," Yugo said quietly as he handed the trays over.

Alibert nodded in understanding as he accepted the trays. Having Qilby around would take getting used to, but regardless he knew that he could always depend on Yugo for help. "You should get some rest, too," he said, keeping his voice low to avoid waking Qilby. "It's been a long day for you."

"Yeah, it has," Yugo gave him a low, tired laugh. "It's been a long weird day."


	3. Master Joris

Adamaï surprised even himself at times. Using a combination of his own respectable flight speed and the zaaps that connected along the road to Bonta had resulted in a journey of a mere day and a half, much shorter than he had expected. He arrived over the sprawling city at sunset, as the fading light of day began to paint the buildings and towers in brilliant shades of orange and gold.

Two glinting dots detached themselves from a rampart tower and rose to meet Adamaï, spiralling upward at reasonable speed. He slowed to allow them to catch up, steadily churning the air with his wings as he came to a near stop. The armored screagles caught up quickly enough, and their Cra riders waved for Adamaï to follow them down before turning their mounts back toward the tower. Adamaï had been expecting this, but the guards seemed much more solemn than usual; on previous visits to Bonta they'd at least been talkative when they flew up to him, whereas now they were completely silent.

The screagles settled on their perches as they came in to land, one on either side of the open platform that ran the length of the wall below the tower's roof. Adamaï set himself down on the platform and folded his wings; the length of cobbles that made up the platform suddenly felt a lot more cramped now that he stood on it. If he kept up his current rate of growth he wouldn't be able to fit his true form into places like this for much longer, not that it was such a terrible loss with his ability to fall back on a humanoid form. He would just have to be more careful about where he wore his natural shape.

"You're Adamaï, aren't you?" one of the guards asked as he slid off his mount. His voice was tired, and Adamaï noticed deep lines around his mouth and eyes when he removed his flying helmet.

"That's right. I'm here to see Master Joris, it's urgent," Adamaï replied. He decided to hold back on changing his shape—doing so might spook the screagles, and panicked birds were probably the last thing the guards needed at the moment.

"We'll send a message through to the palace," the guard said. "Please wait here," he then turned and entered the tower, where the shadow of the doorway took him from sight.

Adamaï looked out over the city once the guard was gone. The sun had drifted below the horizon by now, and darkness swept in like a tide. Something was wrong. A city as large as Bonta should have been a glittering jewel against the velvet shadows of the surrounding countryside, but tonight the markets and normal gathering places were dark save for a few street lamps.

"It's the Red Plague," the remaining guard still sat astride his screagle as he watched the gates. "The king has been trying to control its spread by restricting the citizens' movements, not that anyone wants to be out these days anyway," he said, a notably bitter edge in his voice.

"That bad, huh?" Adamaï moved closer to the platform's edge and looked out at the palace, one of the few structures that was still fully illuminated. A painful, silent question hung in cool air between them: _How many thus far?_ He knew it would be more than the last figure Joris had given them, the plague's spread had showed no signs of slowing when he last told them of it. Adamaï slowly filled his massive lungs and let the air out in one long sigh. The length and speed of the journey were finally starting to weigh on him, on top of the gravity of the Red Plague's effects on Bonta; he'd never seen the city looking so dead and quiet before.

And just how many would die if no cure was found? How much would the population be culled by the time the disease ran its course? In the worst case scenario, it was possible that they could end up with a world almost empty of humans.

A fleeting, treacherous thought slid through Adamaï's mind as he considered the possibility: _It would be easy for our people to return if there were so few to stand in our way..._ He swatted it aside as quickly as it had come, but it made him uneasy regardless of how quickly it passed. No, that wasn't the way to go about it. Such disregard for sentient life was callous, it was—

The rest of the thought was cut off by the guard's reply. "We've lost a lot of people, including some of our best Eniripsas. Now all we've got is a bunch of those _quacks _over in their little school, and no one's holding out high hopes for them being able to deal with it."

"Hmm?" Adamaï looked at the guard properly this time, eyeridges raised in inquiry. "Quacks?"

"Healers who insist on not using magic to heal their patients," the Cra replied. "Mostly those who never chose a god and who wanted to heal others regardless, some believers who dabble in the stuff for fun." He gave a weary shrug. "Like I said, no one has high hopes for what they can do."

"Highness Adamaï," the other guard had returned from within the tower, and he gave the dragon a polite bow as Adamaï turned to him. "The palace is ready to receive you. Master Joris will meet with you as soon as he can."

* * *

As the guard had said, the palace was ready. Adamaï spotted an ornate terrace lined with servants and palace attendants, all waving lanterns suspended on poles to catch his attention. He tipped to the right and began a slow descent to the terrace.

A small wind kicked up as Adamaï dropped onto the terrace, just strong enough to rustle the attendants' flowing garments. The leader of the group—a status made obvious by the extra intricacy of her uniform—approached Adamaï as he settled and gave him a polite bow. "Welcome, Highness Adamaï. We have prepared a feast and a chamber for you, if you would please follow me," that said, the attendant turned neatly and walked through the largest door on the terrace.

Adamaï resettled his wings with a shrug of his shoulders and followed. The rooms and hallways beyond the door were filled with their usual decadence, as expected, but somehow things seemed more gloomy than before. He paused briefly to get a closer look, and noticed that there was a fine layer of dust coating the decor. So the palace was either moving resources away from the more superfluous tasks in favor of more essential ones, or they'd lost so much of their serving staff that cleaning constantly was out of the question. Strain from the plague was showing even here.

"And here we are," the attendant flung open a large pair of double doors, revealing a roomy bedchamber decorated in colors of deep blue and silver.

While the halls may have been left to the dust, this chamber certainly was not; every silver surface shone as if it had just been polished, and the drapes and fabric looked as dark and rich as the day they'd been dyed. Evidently Adamaï was such an important guest that he merited the use of such a well-kept room even in a time of crisis.

The heavy, mouthwatering scent of cooked meat and various vegetables and breads filled Adamaï's nose as he stepped through the door, and he noticed that the central table was cluttered with a multitude of dishes and drinks. It was more than enough to remind him of how hungry he felt after such a swift journey. The serving staff had even left the table without chairs in order to accommodate Adamaï's large size, and a few large cushions had been piled off to the side in case he required a more comfortable seat while he ate.

"We heard that dragons have large appetites, so we brought as much as we could fit on the table," the attendant stopped by the door as Adamaï continued past. "And if you require more we would be happy to accommodate you," she gave him another respectful bow as she spoke.

"Thank you," Admai gave the woman a nod of gratitude and settled himself on the other side of the table, where he would be facing the door. "Will Master Joris be coming soon?"

"He is in a meeting at the moment, but he will arrive as soon as he is able. Are you in need of anything else?"

"No, this is fine. Thank you," Adamaï replied.

The attendant gave Adamaï another bow and left, closing the doors behind herself.

Adamaï selected a large gobball leg and took a bite. It was expertly cooked, juicy and flavorful. They were really going all out, they must've thought he had some sort of good news to share, or some solution to help with the plague. He hoped Qilby's intellect would be enough, once he had the right resources.

His mind wandered back to the thought that had come to him earlier, while he was on the guard tower. Disgust started to creep back as he remembered it. It sounded so much like someone he knew, that kind of blatant disregard for life... The gobball leg drifted away from Adamaï's mouth when he realized who it was.

Qilby. It sounded like something Qilby would have done. He had been willing to ravage the World of Twelve for the sake of getting their people on the move again, without a single care for how many lives it took in the process. Goddess only knew how many budding civilizations Qilby must have wiped out for the sake of the journey, how many planets he'd left in ruins. The notion horrified him when Qilby first mentioned it, and it still horrified him now.

That was not the way they were going to operate, not anymore. Adamaï would see to it. They would save the peoples of the World of Twelve and find a way to coexist with them.

And he'd left that same world destroying monster alone with his brother. Adamaï let out a frustrated sigh and took another bite. He hoped Joris would be able to get what they needed quickly so he could get back home as soon as possible. Yugo was strong, it was true, but he was still so very... Soft, even after all these years and sometimes it worried Adamaï. He didn't want Yugo to be hurt for that.

The door opened, rousing Adamaï from his musings, and he looked up to find Master Joris standing in the doorway.

"Good evening, Highness Adamaï," Joris said with a respectful nod. "I hope everything is to your liking."

"Let's skip the niceties for now and get straight to why I'm here," Adamaï placed the gobball leg on an empty plate and focused his attention on Joris. "You asked us if there was any chance of our culture holding a solution to the Red Plague in your last letter, we think we might have it."

"You're sure?" Joris hurried up to the table, small legs moving in a blur from his speed. He was beside Adamaï almost in an instant, looking up at him expectantly. "What did you find?"

Adamaï tapped one foreclaw on a plate as he thought on how he wanted to phrase it. "We brought Qilby back to help," he said. There was no real delicate way to say it anyway, no sense in delaying things by dithering over it.

"You—_What_?" Joris took a step back, the shock showing even from under his hood. "Why? He almost destroyed the World of Twelve!"

"We've taken precautions to keep him from causing trouble again," Adamaï replied. He'd been expecting a reaction like this, it was only natural for Joris to be concerned after what Qilby did.

"How do you expect him to help, then?" the shock left Joris's face, but he remained on-edge from the news.

"He's brilliant," it almost hurt Adamaï to admit that. Qilby was smarter merely through age alone, and it was clear that he had the problem solving capability to back the memory and experience up when presented with a problem. "He's done research on and found cures for diseases before. If anyone can find a cure, it should be him."

"Still, this is a big risk," Joris said, still unconvinced. "I would like to see the precautions you're taking myself."

Adamaï nodded. "That's fine. We were hoping you would come back with me anyway."

* * *

As a general rule non-magical medicine was something to be laughed at by the majority of the World of Twelve's populace. They just didn't see the point. Why bother with _mundane_ medicine when an Eniripsa could heal you with a mere wave of their brush? In a world overflowing with magic and power there was simply no need. Such studies were pursued only by eccentrics, the godless, or those with an odd sense of curiosity.

At least, that was how they _used _to see it. Change came fast on the heels of the Red Plague, bringing with it a desperate need for healers after so many Eniripsas had fallen to the disease. Suddenly mundane medicine and the "quacks" who studied it weren't so worthy of laughter anymore...

Joris crossed the length of Bonta at a sprint, leaving a small dust trail in his wake. No check point guard stopped him as he ran; they knew who he was, and they knew that he was out and about, being one of the few who were granted full freedom of movement after curfew. The Institute of Medical Science appeared between a pair of buildings ahead, its modest towers framed by the faded stars above. They would need accurate documentation of the disease, Adamaï had said, and Joris knew where the best place to find it would be. The Institute's doctors had always been meticulous in their documentation of health conditions and disease—something Joris had recognized and respected for a long time—and now their abilities would have to be put to the test.

The gates loomed up before him in the dimmed illumination of the street lamps. They were shut, since it was now well after normal visiting hours. Joris made his way to the smaller entrance just beside the gates and knocked.

A muffled clatter come from the other side of the door as someone undid the lock, and it opened to reveal a young Iop guard. He peered around the street a few times as he searched for the source of the knock, then looked down and nearly jumped out of his boots when he realized that Joris was standing before him. "Master Joris I'm so sor—"

"Don't worry about it," Joris cut him off before he could finish the hasty apology.

"Giran, be ready!" the sound of footsteps echoed beyond the door as someone toward them. "The palace says Master Joris will be—" the speaker, an older Iop this time, stopped as he spotted the open door and the guest standing just beyond it. "Good evening, Master Joris," the older Iop gave Joris a quick bow of respect as he spoke. "The dean will be waiting for you in his office."

"Thank you," Joris nodded and stepped through the doorway as the younger guard shuffled to one side. He kept to a walking pace until he reached the door that led to the campus grounds, at which point he resumed his sprint and darted across the grass toward the building that held the dean's office.

The doors to the dean's office were shut when Joris arrived, and there was no reply when he knocked. It seemed the dean was not yet in, nothing to do now but wait. He hopped onto a nearby chair and clasped his hands in his lap, doing his best to keep still and be patient.

A few urgent thoughts caught up now that he had a chance to sit still. _They brought Qilby back! Qilby, of all people!_ That was the last thing Joris was expecting when he wrote that plea to Yugo. Qilby had appeared smart and knowledgeable enough when Joris last spoke with him, but the old Eliatrope was also a skilled liar. Just how much could he be trusted now? Surely he hadn't changed in the years since his reimprisonment. It wasn't as if he's learned his lesson after being imprisoned the first time.

And which twin made that choice? Surely it would be Yugo, he was the more empathetic of the two. Joris knew that the young king had always felt bad about what happened to Qilby. But why had Adamaï gone along with it? He was supposed to be the more level-headed, the more _logical _of the two. Stubborn as well—they both were—but Adamaï's say on the matter should have held a great deal of weight with Yugo because of what Qilby did to him.

"Master Joris, so sorry I wasn't able to get here soon enough," the light tenor voice came from just beside Joris, and he looked up to find just the man he was waiting for.

"Good evening, Dean Erik," Joris hopped down from the chair and waited for the dean to lead him into his office.

"I hope I find you in good health...?" the dean asked hesitantly, doing his best to get a look at Joris's face under the hood. The dean was a slim man of average height and lacking in any divine features that would mark him as a follower of one of the Twelve, which made him a bit boring to look at in comparison. Such was the case with many of the doctors at the Institute, though there were still a few curious followers spread here and there.

Joris nodded. "Still nothing, same as when I was let out of quarantine," he replied. Exposure to the Red Plague had been accidental, a result of Joris trying to give early aid to those who were suffering, and he had willingly gone into quarantine when the Institute advised it. Every human exposed at the same time he was had come down with the plague after just two days in quarantine; Joris had not, and after being kept isolated for a week had finally been given permission to leave. "I have not come into recent contact with anyone who was infected either."

"Good, good," the dean sounded a bit distracted as he turned to his office door and unlocked it. "It's not that I distrust the palace's policies, it's just that you can never be too careful, right?" he gave Joris a worried smile from over his shoulder and opened the doors.

"Of course," Joris gave the dean a nod of agreement and followed him inside. The dean's office was much as he remembered it, save for a few new decorations; the walls were completely obscured by book shelves, the desk tidy but still piled high with paperwork, and the furniture worn but well maintained.

"Now, what can I help you with, Master Joris?" the dean strode to the other side of his desk and took a seat. "The palace mentioned it was urgent but gave no other details."

"We have someone working on a potential cure for the Red Plague," Joris replied as he took a seat in one of the chairs placed before the dean's desk. He would have to be choosy about what he told the dean, there was no need to give the more sensitive details the opportunity to spread. "If we could have copies of the documentation you have on it and hire a few skilled assistants that would be most helpful, and we will be happy to compensate the Institute for any help given us."

The dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Someone who could cure it? Who? Are they in Bonta?"

"Not at the moment," Joris replied, shaking his head. "They will be operating from outside of Bonta for the time being."

Dean Erik gave a small half-cough of disbelief. "Are you sure that's wise, Master Joris?" he asked. "Surely this person would do better if they conducted their research here at the Institute, with all possible resources at their disposal."

"You have a point, and I will bring it up with my associates," Joris said with a nod of agreement. "But I'm not the only one making the decisions on this matter, so there are no guarantees."

"Very well," the dean sighed. "I already have two assistants in mind, and we should be able to have copies of our information on the Red Plague ready for you soon. When do you need them?"

"The sooner the better," Joris replied. "Being able to leave by morning would be ideal."

"Morning," Dean Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he considered how much time he would need to get everything Joris required done. "We might be able to make that deadline." He got to his feet and gave Joris a respectful bow. "Would you mind returning around eight o' clock tomorrow morning? We will hopefully have everything ready by then."

"That's fine," Joris got to his feet as well. "Thank you for your help, Dean Erik. Be sure to send the bill up to the palace and we will see to it that the Institute is compensated in full for its aid."


	4. Home Again

Mid afternoon was always pleasant in Emelka, usually warm and mild with a light breeze. It was Chibi's favorite time to play outside for just that reason, and this afternoon was just as nice as the others. He'd even managed to coerce Grougal into giving up on his quest to harass Qilby for the time being so the two could play together.

It was hide and seek this time, and it was Chibi's turn to seek. "...seven, eight, nine, and ten!" he whirled to face the yard and contemplated the most likely place Grougal would have hidden himself.

Something flickered on the edge of his awareness, in the space behind his eyes. It wasn't such a shocking thing anymore when it happened. He'd noticed it around a year ago, but had never found the right words to share his experience with Alibert and the others. Every time he tried, the words just failed to come. Grougal was the only one who seemed to understand, without Chibi having to say a word. Somehow he just knew. This flicker seemed to be leading him toward the sky, and Chibi looked up to find the typical blue expanse dotted with a few scattered clouds.

Chibi waited—sometimes the flickers happened a minute or so before whatever followed showed up. A large creature swooped into view, one that Chibi immediately recognized. "Adamaï!" Chibi called, a happy grin on his face as he half-ran, half-skipped after the dragon. Emotional attachment was something that came easily to Chibi, as it did to his big brother Yugo. As a result, every time any member of his immediate family went on a trip a small ember of worry always turned up to smolder in the back of his mind; it made him unbelievably happy to see Adamaï home and safe, and to snuff that ember out yet again.

Adamaï came to land in the open field behind the inn, and a figure dressed in a grey travel coat fell off his back immediately after he came to a stop. Adamaï looked down at the woman, a sympathetic expression on his face. "You alright, Dr. Korden?"

"J-just leg cramps," Dr. Korden muttered, her voice slightly muffled from how close her face was to the grass.

"Who's this?" Chibi asked as he came to a stop beside the newcomer.

"A little help for the task at hand," the gruff, familiar voice came from the space between Adamaï's furled wings, one that Chibi new very well.

"Uncle Jori!" Chibi's voice became so high and excited that it cracked as he straightened and hopped up and down with happiness.

Joris stood carefully on Adamaï's back and hopped down to land beside where Dr. Korden still knelt on the grass. He braced himself, and as if on cue Chibi leaped onto him. Joris caught the young Eliatrope, spun once from the momentum, and set him down on the grass in a single smooth movement. "It's good to see you too, Chibi," he laughed, giving Chibi a genuine smile.

Grougal caught up as Chibi threw himself into Adamaï's arms next, having been lured out of his hiding place by the commotion. "Uncle Jori," the dragonet sidled over, pretending to be only half-interested in the fact that they had a visitor. "Are you... Gonna maybe tell some of your stories later?" Grougal watched Joris from the corner of his eye, his face pointed at an upturned forepaw as if he were inspecting it for some speck of dirt or flaw.

"If I have time," Joris replied. Grougal was proud even as dragons went, but he had grown used to the dragonet's odd ways of showing favor years ago. "I might be staying a few days, so it's a definite maybe."

The small smile that came to the dragonet's face would have gone unnoticed had Joris not been watching for it, and Grougal lowered the forepaw as Chibi wandered back over to them.

"Hey Grougaaal," Chibi half-sang his brother's name as he sidestepped in, a mischievous little smile on his face as he leaned close. "Guess whaaat?"

"What?" Grougal looked at his brother, suspicious of his smile but curious about what he had to say.

"I'm still _it_," Chibi's smile widened into a grin as he extended a hand to tag Grougal with.

"Hey no fair!" Grougal darted out of Chibi's reach before he could be tagged and stopped a few feet away. "Time out! We got interrupted!"

"I'm gonna getcha, Grougal!" Chibi barrelled after his brother, arms held out in front of him ready to tag Grougal once he got in range.

"You'll never catch me anyway!" Grougal called over his shoulder as he galloped down the yard on all fours. "Slowpoke!"

Joris turned back to Dr. Korden as the happy din of the brothers' play faded in the distance. "Will you need a few more minutes to collect yourself, doctor?" he asked quietly.

"No I—I think I've about got it," Korden's voice was steadier this time, though she still sounded out of breath.

"I never knew you to be so opposed to flying, Korden," the speaker articulated each word with the utmost care, as if he were dropping them into place one by one.

"So sorry I don't have such a wide range of experience as _you_ have, Pirwit," Korden snapped as she pushed herself to her feet. "Not all of us have been adventurers before," she straightened and readjusted her haven bag, which had slid to her front when she dropped off of Adamaï's back.

Dr. Pirwit gave her a dry laugh in reply. "Uh-hah, true enough. It has been a long time since you even left the city limits, has it not?" the brief grin he directed at her gave his gaunt face the appearance of a skull, a lasting mark of his former devotion to the god Sram.

"Not since I was a kid," Korden ran the fingers of her right hand through her short brown hair in an attempt to bring some order to it after the windy ride on dragonback.

A zaap appeared next to Adamaï, causing the two doctors to jump with surprise. Yugo hopped through a moment later and flung his arms around Adamaï's thick neck, happy to have his brother home. "How was the trip, Ad?" he asked as he let go and slid to the ground.

"Faster than I thought. I hope nothing happened while I was away," Adamaï watched Yugo's face for any expression that might betray the presence of serious trouble and failed to find any.

"Just Grougal," Yugo sighed. "I haven't been able to get him to stop."

"Hasn't even been a week yet, it's too soon for someone like him to stop."

"Something the matter?" Joris asked as he joined the two of them.

"Later. We need to talk anyway," Adamaï replied, glancing at the two doctors. "We haven't had lunch yet, why don't we take them to the common room and talk in the back?"

"So where's that eccentric genius we heard about?" Korden peered around the yard as she spoke, as if said genius might suddenly appear from behind a tree or the back of the inn. "Do we get to meet him soon?"

"All in good time, Dr. Korden," Joris assured her. "For now let's get you settled with some lunch, it's been a long journey."

* * *

"Now, on to business," Joris settled himself in one of the cozy family room chairs with Yugo and Adamaï seated in two others just across from him, the dragon having assumed his humanoid form. "I appreciate your trying to help with the Red Plague, Yugo, but I'm afraid I must question your judgement in deciding to bring Qilby back to the World of Twelve."

"It wasn't Yugo who came up with the idea," Adamaï cut in, before Yugo could express his confusion over being saddled with the blame. "It was me."

For a few moments Joris was too stunned for words. He'd been thinking on the lecture he was going to give Yugo throughout the entire trip back to Emelka, and to think it was actually _Adamaï_ who suggested this in the first place. _That_ really said something. Adamaï was the more logical of the two, he wouldn't risk the World of Twelve needlessly... "I'm still not entirely convinced," Joris said finally.

"That's fine," Adamaï gave Joris a polite nod of acknowledgement. "It's up to us to get you to change your mind."

"What did you tell him already?" Yugo sat forward in his chair, eyes on his brother as he waited for the answer.

"Just that you'd taken precautions," Joris replied. "I would like to see them in person, if you don't mind."

"Sure, Qilby's in the room right now," Yugo said, getting to his feet.

Adamaï stood and led the way to Qilby's room. "Baltazar created a special collar that prevents him from lying and restricts his ability to channel Wakfu," he explained as they made their way down the hall. "We're also fully aware of what he is now, he won't be able to surprise us again."

"Have you tested it?" Joris's question had not occurred to the two before, and they both stopped to look at him.

"Well," Yugo's face began to flush with embarrassment. "No, we trusted that Baltazar was able to do a good job. And we _know _the collar is restricting Qilby's Wakfu."

"Would you mind if I were to test the truth telling portion?"

"What would you ask him?" Adamaï turned to face Joris as he spoke, genuinely curious. Though he believed that Baltazar had managed to do as he said he had with the collar—and with the help of the Eliacube, no less—you could never be too careful. It would be interesting to see regardless.

"Something that he would want to deny," Joris looked down at the floor as he thought, the fingers of one hand pressed against his chin. "Perhaps his involvement in the fall of the Eliatrope race?" he looked up at Adamaï.

The dragon looked as if he was about to laugh, but stopped himself before the sound managed to leave his throat. A distant expression filled his eyes as he thought about it, having encountered second thoughts over the apparent ridiculousness of such a suggestion.

"I think that should work," Yugo said finally, having returned from his own musings on the matter.

Adamaï nodded. "Seems the best we can do anyway," he turned back down the hall and continued to lead the little group along.

Qilby was seated on the bed and reading through one of his books when they entered the room. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps, and was surprised to find Joris standing before him with Yugo and Adamaï. After a moment's pause Qilby closed the book and placed it on the bedspread at his side, out of the way but within easy reach once the group left again.

"You remember Joris, Qilby," Adamaï nodded to Joris as he spoke. "He has a question for you."

Joris locked eyes with Qilby for a moment, before the old Eliatrope looked away. There seemed to be an air of hopelessness that hung around Qilby now, far different from the quiet, confident Eliatrope King that Joris had met back in Sadida years ago. The king part was a ruse of course but the confidence seemed long gone as well. In fact, there was nothing more than Joris's memory of Qilby from Sadida Kingdom to tell him that the man seated before him was anything other than a normal human; he was certainly dressed for the part, without even a hint of the typical Eliatrope fashion to claim otherwise. To Joris it seemed that Qilby's spirit had broken somewhere along the way as well, perhaps in the very moment he was stripped of the proper Eliatrope identity, or even while trapped in the Blank Dimension a second time.

_This could all be a ruse,_ Joris reminded himself. "So, Qilby. Tell me of the downfall of the Eliatrope race. Exactly who is to blame?"

The look Qilby gave Joris was filled with fear and despair, like a cornered prey animal that had run out of places to hide. He looked down at the floor and slowly dragged his hand up to his thigh, where his fingers curled around the thick, loose fabric of the new pants he'd been given. The fabric creaked from how tightly his fist clenched around it, and his mouth tightened into a thin, tense line. His eyes drifted toward one of the desk legs, farther away from Joris, and his mouth opened slightly as if to speak. No words came at first, even as his lips moved without making a sound.

"I... I am," Qilby said finally, his voice almost too quiet to hear. His hand was now clenched so tight that the veins and tendons stood out like cords, complement to the stark whiteness of his knuckles.

"And what reason did you have for doing such a thing?" Joris persisted, all too aware of the pity that was beginning to creep in. If this was an act, it was a very convincing one.

Another period of uncomfortable silence followed. "Myself," was the weary admission. "I was afraid of staying still... Had to keep moving."

Joris gave Qilby a nod to acknowledge that he had heard and accepted the reply and turned to leave. He looked up at Yugo and Adamaï in turn as he passed them, and they followed him out into the hallway.

They stopped once they reached the family room again. "Convincing," Joris closed his eyes for a moment as he thought on what he'd seen. "But we will still have to keep a very close eye on him."

"Of course," Adamaï leaned against the doorframe that led to the hallway, arms crossed over his chest. "We weren't planning on doing otherwise."

"And as for the matter of curing the plague, the Dean of the Institute of Medical Science has extended the very courteous offer of allowing Qilby to work in their facilities. I would like to recommend that we take him to Bonta immediately so he can begin work with every possible resource," Joris clasped his hands behind his back and turned to Yugo and Adamaï as he spoke.

"Really?" Yugo looked surprised at the suggestion. "You're okay with taking Qilby to Bonta?"

"We should be able to keep things under control if security is tight and you two stay close by."

"How will the King and Nobles react to this?" Adamaï added.

"The Council doesn't hold as much power anymore, and I can convince the King," Joris replied. "With so much at stake, he'll be willing to take the risk as long as we're careful."

"Sounds alright to me." Yugo glanced over his shoulder at Adamaï, "What do you think, Ad?"

"I don't like the thought of allowing Qilby to be around strangers," Adamaï grumbled as he pushed off the doorframe. "You're right, Bonta is a better place for him to work from, especially if they have things set up before we get there." He glanced down the hallway behind him, then turned back to Yugo and Joris. "But I still can't agree to that. I can't just leave Grougal here unattended, he's too much for Alibert to handle by himself and he still needs to maintain his training."

"Perhaps we could bring them with us?" Joris suggested.

Adamaï started shaking his head immediately after the words finished leaving Joris's mouth. "And take two kids into an active plague zone?" he gave Joris a look that suggested the answer should have been obvious.

"You have a point," Joris said with a nod and a sigh. He looked up at Adamaï and knew by the stubborn set of his jaw that the dragon would not budge on this matter. It was not surprising given how agitated Adamaï had become the longer they took to get back to Emelka; he had been worried over not being able to watch Qilby himself, and would doubtless resist any attempt to get him to leave Yugo alone with him again. "I can get the Institute to send additional resources since he will be working here, but it will take some time for them to get all the way out here."

"I think Qilby will still be able to make progress until they arrive," Yugo said. "He's been working nonstop ever since Adamaï left, and the stuff you brought should help him a lot, the assistants too."

"Speaking of which, how much do we want to tell them?"

"Good question," Adamaï's foot tapped against the hardwood floor as he weighed their options. "Part of our defense against Qilby's treachery is knowledge of what he is, and it's not like we can constantly babysit them while they work, we'll just slow them down."

"I think they have a right to know since they're going to be working with him," Yugo added.

"Very well, and what do you intend to tell them?" Joris asked, raising his eyebrows at the two of them.

"Well, we could start from the beginning..." Yugo glanced at Adamaï as if seeking approval for the suggestion, and continued when the dragon offered no protest. "Just tell them what happened in Sadida and at the Crimson Claws."

"They'll need to keep it to themselves," Adamaï added. "But if they know that then they'll be well aware of the danger he can present."

"Then let's get it done as soon as possible," Joris said. "I want to be around to help explain as much as a I can, but I need to get back to Bonta to arrange for the equipment delivery."

In the end Adamaï decided to have Qilby sit in on the discussion as well, with Yugo remaining strangely silent on the matter. Joris wanted to protest, but could find no worthy reason for doing so; after all Qilby had done it was far from a harsh enough punishment for someone like him. Still, whether it was to make a point or for mere petty revenge, it worried Joris to see that Adamaï was willing to do something so cruel.

The doctors listened with a mix of surprise and dull horror as the story took a darker turn, as Adamaï recounted what happened between himself and Qilby in the Zinit. Qilby stared silently at the floor throughout the whole thing, and Joris noticed that Yugo became restless and agitated whenever he looked at the older Eliatrope. Finally the story reached its end, and the doctors were excused, feeling tired and ready for an early night. Qilby got to his feet and left as well once the doctors had disappeared into the common room, bound for his room and new research material to bury himself in.

Joris got to his feet and turned to the two brothers. "I'm going to start my return journey tonight," he said as Yugo and Adamaï left their chairs as well. "Hopefully I will see you both again by next week."

* * *

**[Eliatrope boy and dragon are up to something. Subject to remain in Emelka, Joris returning to Bonta. More information to follow.]**

* * *

"Something is bothering you, brother."

"Hmm?" Yugo looked over his shoulder at Adamaï, a pair of partially-folded pants still in his hands. "What makes you say that?"

Adamaï leaned forward from his seat on the second bed and rested his elbows on his knees. "You keep letting me decide everything, instead of speaking up the way you normally do," he replied. "So tell me what's wrong."

Yugo remained silent as he finished folding the pants and added them to the neat little pile of laundry on his bed. He then turned and took a seat on it himself, letting out a long sigh as he did so. "I dunno..." his gaze wandered off to a corner of the room, next to the foot of Adamaï's bed. "I still feel really bad about what happened to Qilby," his hand crept up and slowly clasped at his shirt front, as if his chest was hurting him. "I'm worried, Ad. I'm too soft. I don't feel like I can make the right decisions with this," he looked up at his brother, eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together and upward with worry. "I don't want people to get hurt because of me."

The reply hit Adamaï like a bucket of cold water to the face. "Yugo—" he began, but the proper words just refused to form. A mix of emotions bubbled up to the surface: worry over Yugo's lack of confidence, a bit of happiness at being allowed to take the lead for once. For a moment he wanted to tell Yugo to leave it to him, that he had everything under control. Reason stopped him.

In the end no one was perfect. Adamaï's fingers curled slightly as he struggled to put the right words into place. He was regarded as the more logical of the two brothers, that was true, but even he could overlook details, allow emotion to cloud his mind. He needed someone to watch him, a second pair of eyes to help make sure that he didn't slip up. "I still need you, Yugo. I can't make these decisions on my own either, so don't hesitate when you want to speak up," he got to his feet and walked over to Yugo's bed, where he dropped down beside his brother. The Eliatrope's gaze had since drifted to the rug before his bed, worried and unfocused as he listened to what Adamaï had to say.

"Come on," Adamaï put on a reassuring smile and gave Yugo a playful bump with his shoulder when the Eliatrope remained silent. "We're in this together, so you gotta do your part too."

"Heh," a small smile began to tug at the corners of Yugo's mouth as Adamaï's words rekindled a little confidence, but the Eliatrope's eyes remained on the rug at his feet.

It still wasn't enough. Adamaï could see it in how Yugo held himself, feel it in the energy of the air around his brother; it wasn't just the situation with Qilby that he was thinking about. Yugo was starting to see his kind heart as a weakness. Adamaï's own heart seemed to jerk sideways at the notion, and a vein of sadness flared cold and painful before beginning to spread. His smile faded.

A big heart, as long as it could be kept in check by reason, should not be seen as a weakness. At times Adamaï himself even wished he had been gifted with one as well, to be able to love and forgive so freely as Yugo did, to be able to win the loyalty of others as easily as he could. It was true that Yugo had made many mistakes because of that heart over the years, but he had also gained many allies because of it.

Adamaï put his hand on Yugo's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, prompting the Eliatrope to finally look up at his brother. "A kind heart is not a sign of weakness, Yugo," their eyes met and held as Adamaï spoke. "You're strong enough to move past the wrongs others have done to you and the pain they caused, to bear the pain that others feel. You can connect with other people and understand them," the dragon kept his hand on Yugo's shoulder despite already having his brother's attention. "So don't be afraid of making the wrong decision because of your heart. Just remember to think things through, and that I'll always be here to help you with that."

This time Yugo's smile was genuine enough to reach his eyes. "Thanks, Ad," Yugo pulled his brother into a tight hug as he spoke. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," Adamaï smiled again and returned the hug.

Good. Yugo was getting his confidence back, and there would be someone watching to make sure Adamaï didn't go down the darkened path. He wouldn't have so much to worry about now.

* * *

Qilby stared down at the carpet from his seat on the bed, temporarily unable to muster the will to get working again. He'd finally stopped running from the fact that he acted selfishly in everything he did years ago in the Blank Dimension, but being forced to admit it aloud, in the presence of others made it more... Real. What had once only inhabited his head had now been freed from its confines to cast its immovable weight upon reality, and there was no taking it back.

He looked down at where his hand rested on the bedspread and rubbed a fold of fabric between his thumb and index finger. Real... Tactile sensations were nonexistent in the Blank Dimension, it was another method of torment written into the very existence of the place. Even something as simple as fabric between his fingers felt good after his stay there. It felt so much better to feel real again.

_But you don't deserve to feel real again,_ the persistent, nagging little voice in the back of his head reminded him. It was an odd paradox, the conditions of the Blank Dimension: the inhabitant felt as though they were no longer real, and yet they still existed in order to experience that misery firsthand. A fitting punishment for someone who didn't deserve to exist in the first place, after what he did to his own people, his own brothers and sisters.

And yet, here he was. In the real world again. Real, and filled with pain. Qilby released the bedspread and reached up to touch his hair, near where his wings should have been. They'd taken his wings away, the most shameful punishment you could possibly bestow upon an Eliatrope. Such fallen individuals had been outcasts of their society, viewed with a mix of suspicion and disdain by the rest of the population. It was fitting, after all... He no longer deserved to share the same species with them, let alone the same image.

He'd been trying to avoid this discussion with himself, working constantly in an attempt to stay ahead of it, to avoid thinking about it. Keep moving, keep moving... That had been his method for outpacing the shame and guilt thus far, until the events of the day managed to stop him dead. Master Joris's questions were painful enough, but sitting in on the retelling of what happened between himself, Yugo, and Adamaï had only compounded that pain and made it worse. It was humiliating to watch the emotions pass over the doctors' faces as they were told about what Qilby did, ranging from shock to anger to horror. They knew what he was, not that he would be able to lie to them if asked directly about it anyway.

That was something impressive. He had tried to bend the truth earlier while talking to Joris if only for the sake of avoiding having to hear himself admit what he did, and found that the collar restricted that as well. Only the truth was allowed. Yes, impressive. Such anti-flow collars were only designed to slow the flow of Wakfu while having no other effects, to think that Baltazar had been able to find a way to work in another functionality... He must have used the Eliacube to do it, its computational capabilities would be more than enough to accomplish such a thing if applied in the right way.

There was no escaping the truth anymore. No escaping the fact that everything he'd done had been for nothing, that he'd only made everything worse.

Painful yes, but pain in the real world was still better than pain in the Blank Dimension. Would they really keep him here after he finished this task? He hoped so, despite that same disappointed voice that told him it was what he deserved, to be locked away in that tiny, empty space for all eternity. The chances of him staying out might be promising since Yugo could probably be taken at his word when he said he'd prefer that Qilby not be shut away in the Blank Dimension anymore, but then there was Adamaï... Qilby didn't know what Adamaï would want to do—especially with what happened between them in the Zinit and after—or how much influence the dragon would hold in the eventual decision. All he knew for sure was that he never wanted to go back.

Exhaustion began to weigh on him. Ah, so the fact that he'd woken up long before dawn with insomnia was finally catching up. Sleep was another thing he'd been deprived of in that empty hell, another thing he dearly missed. Dreams were one of the few places that actually entertained him these days, where imagination was unbound and things even beyond imagining could occur. Yet the still-bitter truth was that despite the boundless creativity of dreams they still weren't real; ideas and conclusions could become apparent within them, but only a small percentage of that was actually workable in the real world. And then there were the nightmares. Those had come to haunt him ever since he left the Blank Dimension and had yet to leave, lurking in the depths of his subconscious until given the chance to rise to the surface when he slept.

There would be no more work for today, he was simply too tired. He would need to sleep or his work would suffer for it, and he was sure that the quality of said work would help determine whether he stayed in the real world or not. Qilby would have to do the best he could and hope that Adamaï chose to show mercy. Or that he would have a use beyond finding a cure. Either way, sleep was essential.

Qilby crawled into bed without bothering to change his clothes and began to drift off as soon as he lay still. As he descended, the nightmares rose to meet him.


	5. Suspicion

Setting up a makeshift lab would be out of the question until the proper equipment arrived. That was the biggest annoyance to Qilby at the moment, but it couldn't be helped since it would take Joris several days to bring everything he needed back to Emelka. Second biggest was the way the two doctors kept watching him from the corners of their eyes, like he was some wild beast that might go berserk and attack them at any moment.

Qilby twitched as something sharp bit into his left calf muscle. Ah, no. That was incorrect.

_Grougal_ was the second most annoying thing at the moment, and was currently sinking his pointy little teeth into Qilby's leg. Qilby let out a long sigh as he looked down at his leg to see what the damage was. Blood was starting to stain his pantleg as Grougal let go and spat on the ground, eager to get the taste of the traitor out of his mouth. At least he let go this time. It took Yugo trying to persuade the dragonet into letting go for about five minutes and eventually ended in him prying Grougal's jaws off of Qilby's arm the last time this happened.

"Now that was uncalled for," Korden said, in a tone that suggested she was scolding a small child. Not too far off. It seemed the shock of seeing Grougal latch onto Qilby's leg had shaken her from her fear of him for the time being.

"Back off," Grougal snarled as he turned to her. "You don't know about this, it's none of your business." Small flames began to lick at the inside of Grougal's mouth as he stared Korden down, daring her to reply.

"Uh-hah," Pirwit's laugh came from somewhere just behind Qilby, causing the old Eliatrope to jump with surprise; the doctor still moved silently despite his having abandoned Sram some time in the past. Before Grougal could properly turn to face him Pirwit darted forward and seized the young dragon by the scruff of the neck, "Very amusing, small dragon. But we do know, and we have chosen to remain anyway."

"_Let go of me!_" Grougal squirmed but was unable to break the doctor's iron grip.

"We are about to start some very important work," Pirwit made his way to the nearest door, maintaining his tight grip on Grougal all the while. He dropped the dragonet outside once he reached it. "There are things more important than your grudge at stake here, do not interrupt us again." The door swung shut, closing with a finality that stated this as the end of the matter.

Grougal glared at the door for a few moments after Pirwit was gone, then shook himself to settle his scales and started to wander away. Having a human able to snatch him up like that was humiliating, he would have to make sure that the skull man wasn't around when he tried to get at Qilby next, and maybe get a little payback on the human for so rudely picking him up too.

The dragonet slunk onward, eyes fixed on the ground as he grumbled to himself. A footprint in the dirt caught his eye as he passed the window to Qilby's room, and he paused to examine it more closely. It was scuffed to the point where he would've passed it over had his eyes not been focused on the ground, and the largeness of it was what struck him first, then the shape; it looked as if Adamaï or a dragoturkey could've made it, but it had five toes instead of three. Grougal cocked his head to one side as he stared at the print. There was no animal he could think of that would make a print like this, none that lived in this region anyway. He gave it an exploratory sniff, and sneezed when he accidentally inhaled dirt along with the scent.

A hurried look around confirmed that no one had been there to see Grougal's embarrassing little tracking accident, and he turned his attention to the footprint again and sniffed at it more carefully this time. The main scent was faint and one he didn't recognize, mixed with a few that were familiar: dried meat, leather, steel...

He looked up, searching for more tracks. A whole trail of them crossed the yard, halting just below the nearest window and doubling back to disappear beneath the shade of the forest. Grougal pushed himself up onto his hind legs and padded over to the window, jumping nimbly up onto the sill once he was just below it.

"Qilby's room?" he wondered to himself as he looked inside and spotted the stacks of books on the floor, the desk piled with notes and journals. Suspicion immediately flared in his mind. What was this thing doing around Qilby's window? Was he plotting against them already?

Grougal hopped down from the window and followed the tracks back into the woods, only to lose them after getting a few feet in. The leaf litter was too thick and the smells of passing animals too strong in the place the footprints led to, and Grougal was too inexperienced with tracking to find them again without the actual footprints. He scowled and took to the air, small wings kicking up the dead leaves as he darted away. One final search of the area turned up nothing else, as it seemed whatever made them had managed to successfully cover its trail once in the forest.

Definitely an unsettling development. Grougal turned and flew back to the inn; Adamaï would have to know about this.

* * *

**[Subject may be the Revered Inventor. Code style between journals and source documents are identical. Extremely knowledgeable. Orders?]**

* * *

The common room shook with uproarious laughter as Yugo entered, a basket of bread in his arms. Even after years of practice Alibert still burnt the inn's bread from time to time, and he had asked Yugo to run to the baker's and buy some rather than allow their guests to go without. He met Alibert at the door to the kitchen and handed the basket off.

"So who's the new entertainment?" Yugo looked in the direction of the laughter, where a large cluster of guests was gathered in one corner of the common room.

"A Feca adventurer arrived while you were picking up the bread," Alibert replied. He sniffed the basket of bread appreciatively and nodded toward the group of guests, "Why don't you go meet him? I can handle the lunch rush for now," he chuckled. "They won't worry much about the wait."

Yugo found that Chibi was among the throng of jolly listeners, seated in a chair right at the front where he would be able to listen to and see the Feca without anyone to get in his way. The Feca himself was lounging in one of the chairs, one elbow propped on the table with a mug of ale in its accompanying hand. As with most Fecas he wore a pair of round glasses, and his short hair was a subdued, pleasant blue color. His equipment was worn but well-made, easily able to withstand the wear and tear of daily adventure.

"Ah, you must be—" the Feca leaned forward when he spotted Yugo and raised his free hand to adjust his glasses. "You're Yugo the Eliatrope, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me," Yugo replied, giving the Feca a grin and a wave.

"The name's Fennius Andoreus," the Feca set his mug on the tabletop and offered his right hand to shake. "A pleasure to meet as well-travelled a hero as yourself, and at such a young age, too!"

"Nice to meet you," Yugo shook Fennius's outstretched hand.

The Feca had a firm grip and looked Yugo right in the eye as they shook hands, a genuinely happy expression on his face. "I was just telling everyone about my last adventure, but I'd love to hear some of yours."

Chibi's disappointed expression at hearing this did not slip past Yugo unnoticed.

"Actually it gets kinda tiring telling them over and over, and I'm pretty sure everyone here's heard them already," there was a chorus of agreement from the crowd as Fennius released Yugo's hand. "Would you mind telling some more of yours?"

"Well," Fennius glanced around at the eager faces that surrounded him. "If you insist."

* * *

**{Do not use this line of communication for jokes.}**

**[I make no joke. He is ancient, correct species, has information on base strain. May interfere with plans. Awaiting orders.]**

* * *

"Qilby."

The old Eliatrope looked up at the sound of someone saying his name, and turned to find that Adamaï had entered his room while he was reading. "Yes?"

"Are you planning to betray us?"

"No, I'm not," Qilby replied, after pausing to overcome his surprise at being asked such a question.

Adamaï's eyes narrowed with suspicion as he watched Qilby, but for the moment he said nothing. "Then what _are_ you planning to do?" the dragon asked.

It was a question that Qilby had considered before, though he had not yet found a satisfactory long-term answer for it himself. "Find a cure for the Red Plague," he replied. That was the short-term truth, at least. As for after that... Well, he would have to wait and see.

"And after that?"

Another pause as Qilby's gaze began to drift toward the floor while he thought. "I'm not sure," Qilby said finally. He wondered what might have pushed the young dragon to asking such questions, though it didn't come as a surprise given his own traitor status. It was more the fact that they came so late compared to when Adamaï _could_ have asked them that surprised Qilby. "Why do you ask?" he looked up at Adamaï as he spoke, hoping to read some sort of answer in the dragon's face if Adamaï chose to remain silent.

The young dragon's eyes flicked briefly to the window beyond, then returned to Qilby's face. "Security measures," was his curt reply. Adamaï lingered for a few moments as he watched Qilby, then turned and left when he could find no indication of whatever he was looking for in the older Eliatrope's expression.

Qilby stared at the empty doorway for a few seconds before trying to return his attention to what he was reading earlier. _How odd..._ It was only natural for Adamaï to be more suspicious of Qilby than Yugo, but the dragon seemed more so than usual, as if something had tipped him off to a possible betrayal. Not that Qilby had anything planned, he'd been telling Adamaï the honest truth, but still, strange.

And that glance at the window when Qilby asked the reason, that had to mean something. Adamaï probably didn't tell him what because he didn't trust him, or because he didn't trust Baltazar's handiwork. Qilby's heel tapped against the floorboards as he tried to focus his attention on reading again.

Curiosity circled him like a hungry fish, each stray thought like an insistent nip on one of his fingers. _Adamaï found something outside the window? What was it? It must've been something out of the ordinary for him to question me like this. What could it be?_ Soon it was almost impossible to focus on his present task, and Qilby set the book aside and got to his feet. A quick look wouldn't hurt, just to quiet his curiosity.

The hallway was empty when Qilby poked his head out to check. Good, no Adamaï or Grougal around to worry him for now. If he was lucky it would stay that way.

He made his way to the nearest outside door, treading as carefully as he could to avoid making excessive noise. The mild breeze of late afternoon met him as he opened the door, a pleasant reminder of how nice the weather tended to be here in Emelka. Qilby slipped out and shut the door behind himself.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as Qilby approached his window from the outside, much to his disappointment. There had to be _something_, Adamaï wasn't one to get riled up over nothing. He turned his attention to the ground. _If it's something that still might be here it's probably— _

And there it was, a large almost-faded footprint pressed into the dirt near his window. Qilby knelt beside it to get a better look, eyebrows drawn together as he ran what details he could through his vast collection of memories. Definitely reptilian, bipedal judging by the depth, big and heavy. The only reason the tracks were still visible was due to the weight of the creature that made them; any lighter and they would've properly faded. But... The arrangement of the toes was just _odd_ for a reptile, with the innermost toe being the largest while the outermost barely made a mark compared to the others. Almost as if this were some bizarre hybrid of reptile and humanoid. Even a human-form dragon was out of the question: they tended to have feet that were almost entirely human save for the claws, this was far too animal-like for one of them.

"Trying to cover up signs of your accomplice?"

The sound of Grougal's snide voice interrupted Qilby's thoughts, and he looked up to find that the black dragonet was now crouching just across from him. "Actually I'm trying to figure out what manner of creature made these," he replied, careful to keep his voice level as he spoke. He was sick of Grougal's constant harassment but saying anything that might anger the dragonet would only make things more painful.

"Oh _really_," Grougal's tone suggested that he didn't believe a word and he began to circle around to the old Eliatrope's left side, hopping nimbly over the trail as he went. "So what _manner of creature_ do you think made them then?"

"Well," Qilby looked down at the prints again. There were very few creatures he knew of that made similar tracks... "It looks a bit similar to fossil tracks I've—" his head snapped up as Grougal crouched, finally realizing that the dragonet had been positioning himself on his unguarded side and was now ready to strike.

The pathetic stump that was all that remained of Qilby's left arm lifted in a futile attempt to ward off the blow—though his mind remembered its loss, his body had still managed to forget. It was an easy strike for Grougal to make, as Qilby's left side was completely open and he had not managed to get his right arm around in time. Throbbing pain punctuated by smaller, more intense bursts flared on the left side of Qilby's ribcage as Grougal made contact, throwing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him with the force of the blow.

"A likely story," Grougal snapped as he leapt up onto Qilby again.

For the first time in days, Qilby felt anger begin to rise past the numb resignation. He took a few moments to get his breath back before looking up at Grougal, "Just because it doesn't make sense to _you_ doesn't mean I'm lying." He returned Grougal's glare, his mouth a grim line as he grit his teeth against the pain of the dragonet's back feet digging into the bruise on his ribs. Ah yes, Qilby could remember this side of Grougal _quite_ clearly; prideful to a fault and stubborn, it always took more than mere words to dissuade him from whatever his present course was, especially when he was this young.

The dragonet didn't reply. Instead bright orange flames began to lick at the corners of Grougal's mouth, and he took a deep breath as he prepared to unload a mouthful of fire in Qilby's face.

"_Grougal!_"

The voice was forceful enough to snap the dragonet out of his present state of mind, and the flames fizzled out as he looked up for whoever was yelling at him.

Qilby looked up as well, momentarily spared the pain of having his face singed, and found that Yugo was standing just across the trail of tracks from them. The young Eliatrope had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Grougal, shoulders squared and back straight, his expression showing clear disappointment with the dragonet's behavior.

"_Off_," Yugo said, pointing at the ground beside Qilby. His voice sounded deeper than usual, in order to express his will and authority as he dealt with the dragonet.

Grougal began to turn back toward Qilby but thought better of it and hopped down to the ground instead. He seemed temporarily cowed by Yugo's sudden forcefulness; apparently the young Eliatrope was finally starting to discover how to properly deal with him when he misbehaved like this.

"I am _very_ disappointed in you, Grougal," Yugo managed to keep the tone, though Qilby noticed that it was starting to waver slightly. "Go to your room for now, I'll talk with you later."

For a moment it looked as if Grougal was going to protest. However, in the end he bowed his head in embarassed submission and started back toward the door.

Yugo watched the dragonet until he was out of sight, then relaxed and let out a sigh that was half cough and walked over to where Qilby still lay in the dirt. "Here," he offered a hand to the older Eliatrope.

Qilby turned over to free his right arm, wincing as his bruised ribs made contact with the ground, and accepted the hand up. Even with help getting to his feet was as chore thanks to how much his ribs hurt now. Grougal was quite strong for his small size but hopefully none were broken. Hopefully. "Thank you," the old Eliatrope muttered as he did his best to brush the dirt off his shirt without touching the bruise by accident.

"What are you doing out here, Qilby?" Yugo's tone was one of tired frustration, the first time Qilby had heard this incarnation of the young Eliatrope speak in such a way toward him. He also sounded a little hoarse from what Qilby could hear—forcing his voice deeper for dealing with Grougal must've been a strain on it.

_Well, nothing for it but to tell the truth._ "Adamaï asked if I was planning to betray you—_and I said no_," he added quickly upon seeing the worried expression that came to Yugo's face. "I thought it was strange that he would ask so late, so I asked if there was reason for it. He didn't answer, but he looked at my window when I asked so I came out here to see if I could find anything."

"So did you?"

"See for yourself," Qilby gestured toward the ground with his one arm.

Yugo stared at Qilby for a moment, probably wary of possible treachery, then looked at the ground between them. It took him a couple passes to notice the footprints, but he didn't lean down for a closer look until Qilby knelt beside the trail himself. "I've never seen prints like these," Yugo said, brushing one of the toes on the print with the tips of his fingers.

"I don't know of any creature native to the World of Twelve with such prints," Qilby added, spreading his thumb and forefinger beside the nearest print; it easily dwarfed his hand in size, the comparison displaying just how large the creature must have been. And yet, Qilby could not recall hearing or seeing something so large near his window. That meant it was able to move quietly, or it had managed to get near his window while he wasn't in the room. Either way, it was disconcerting to know that something this big was lurking around his window. He would have to be sure to draw the curtains tonight.

Another mark beside the trail got his attention, one he had not yet found due to Grougal's interuption. "Look at this," Qilby pointed to two short lines traced in the dirt, both seeming to run toward each other. "Might be tail marks," he said, half to himself as he considered what sort of tail might make marks like this. "A forked tail?" he frowned to himself as he tried to guess at what this creature might look like.

"Huh. Have you tried following them out?" Yugo pointed toward the forest, where the tracks disappeared behind the wide roots of a tree.

"Not yet," Qilby got to his feet and started toward the trees, Yugo following close behind him.

They followed the tracks into a section of forest floor that was awash with leaf litter. Here the footprints disappeared, much to Qilby's surprise; he had a great deal of experience tracking beasts, and yet this _large _creature had managed to simply vanish as far as its tracks were concerned. That could mean any number of things when it came to the creature itself: it could be intelligent, possess magic, maybe it could fly, perhaps any combination of the three. A small chill ran down Qilby's spine as he and Yugo walked back to the inn—he didn't know what would come next, but the prints gave him cause for worry _and _for excitement. Here was something _new_. Something he'd never seen.

The haze that had hung over his mind since he was retrieved from the Blank Dimension lifted a little, shifted by the movement of the unseen forces around him.

Whatever might come next, he expected that it would be... Interesting.

* * *

Grougal was curled up on the carpet when Yugo entered the room shared by the dragonet and his brother Chibi. It was a room any pair of young boys would be proud of, filled with craft materials and toys; the paints and brushes were Chibi's favorite, while Grougal preferred playing with the adventurer figures that Joris had brought for them on one of his visits.

"How does this help anything, Grougal?" Yugo asked with a sigh as he walked over to Grougal.

"You don't understand," Grougal's muffled voice floated up to Yugo from somewhere among the thread of the rug.

"Then tell me," Yugo settled himself beside Grougal and crossed his legs before himself. He felt a bit unnerved seeing Grougal like this, it wasn't like the dragonet to give up this easily and Yugo wasn't about to think he could change so suddenly. Something was definitely bothering Grougal, and he would have to find out what.

"It's—" Grougal halted and turned his head to the side, away from Yugo. "I just, I hate him and I don't know why," the corners of his mouth began to droop downward as his tone drifted closer to an actual whine.

"Well he did beat you up and—"

"It's not even that," Grougal cut Yugo off as he started to uncurl himself, still staring at the opposite wall. "I hear this echo whenever I look at him. Like people screaming," the dragonet hauled himself to his feet, acting as though he weighed much more than usual. "It's in my head but I know they were real, I _know _they existed," his tone gradually drifted closer and closer to a sob as he went on, his eyes full of fear as he finally looked up at Yugo. "They were real people, and they were hurting, and _dying_" his voice cracked at the last word, he began to pace like a caged beast, head held low to the ground and close to tears. "And I know it's _his_ fault."

Grougal continued to pace for a few more moments before looking up at Yugo. "I'm not crazy! They're real!" two large tears rolled down his snout and dripped onto the rug, leaving two dark stains as they soaked through. "You believe me, right?" Grougal pleaded as he began backing into a corner of the room, unable to stop the flow of tears now that it started.

Yugo got to his feet and moved over to Grougal. "C'mere, Grougal," he scooped the dragonet up and carried him over to the bed, where he sat with Grougal resting in his lap. "This doesn't sound like something you'd make up," Yugo said finally. No, it was too strange to be something Grougal _made up_, Yugo knew the sorts of stories the dragonet would tell if he was too embarrassed to admit the truth and this wasn't one of them.

"I'm scared, Yugo," Grougal whimpered, two more large tears rolling down his face and dripping onto Yugo's leg. His small body shook with a few unrestrained sobs, and more tears dripped onto Yugo's leg and the bedspread beneath them.

"It's okay," Yugo rubbed his fingertips across Grougal's back in the space between his wings, soothing the dragonet as he tried to work out what they should do next. Those screams he was talking about, and that he _knew_ Qilby was to blame... Was it possible that Grougal was hearing the echoes of Qilby's betrayal all those years ago? But why? How could Grougal remember that if they were supposed to lose their memories when they were reborn? "We'll figure this out, don't worry," he added.

"Grougal?"

Yugo looked up to find Chibi standing in the doorway. An uncharacteristically troubled expression rested on Chibi's face now, and it deepened when he spotted Grougal curled up in Yugo's lap.

Chibi hurried over without another word and pulled himself onto the bed beside Yugo, where he would be able to sit next to his brother. Once up he rested his forehead against Grougal's, and the dragonet started to calm as the flow of tears stopped.

_Good, looks like Grougal is starting to calm down._ Yugo thought to himself as he settled an arm around Chibi as well. There was still the matter of these echoes to deal with regardless, and the sooner the better given Grougal's distress over them. He was stumped on what to do for the moment, but one thing was for sure: keeping Grougal and Qilby separate would have to be the temporary fix until they had this figured out.

"Hey, I have an idea," Yugo said aloud, looking down at the twins.

Chibi and Grougal looked up in unison, each showing interest in what Yugo might suggest.

"Why don't you guys go on a picnic with dad tomorrow, just the three of you?" Yugo smiled as the two began to get excited; picnics were something they particularly enjoyed as an opportunity to get away from the inn for a while and have a little adventure of their own, however small it might actually be. "I'll watch the inn while dad's away so you guys can spend the _whole_ day together, what do you say?"

"Yeah!" Chibi was already grinning as he thought of all the things he wanted to do while out on their little day trip. "Wanna go, Grougal?" he turned to his brother, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Okay," Grougal replied. He was far from worry-free at this point, but the picnic gave him something to look forward to, at least.

The plans for the next day were settled, but Grougal didn't get up. Seemed he wasn't yet ready to leave the security that being with Yugo provided, and Yugo didn't mind. Sitting here with the two would give him some opportunity to think. There was one solution he could think of now, and he knew that Grougal wouldn't like it in the slightest. The Eliacube was out of reach and the Zinit was out of the question, leaving only one valid option for acquiring the answers he needed: Yugo would have to ask Qilby about it, and trust that the collar got him to tell the truth. Tomorrow would be the best time while Grougal was away on the outing, no chance of the dragonet stumbling in on their conversation.

His mind made up, Yugo pulled a few pillows over, propped them against the wall, and leaned back to wait for the twins to fall asleep.

* * *

**{Contact with headquarters currently unavailable. Will launch inquiry on matter once reestablished. Interfere but maintain cover at all cost.}**

**[Understood.]**

* * *

The front door swung open with such force that it slammed against the wall it was attached to, attracting the attention of those enjoying dinner or drink in the common room. An Eniripsa hurried in, followed closely by an Iop and a much younger Eniripsa bearing a ginger-haired toddler in her arms. Tired worry could be found on each of their faces, and they huddled together as they moved, as if something was chasing them.

Yugo watched from the kitchen door as Alibert met them in front of the counter, but he was too far away to hear what was said. He turned back to prepping the picnic lunch that Chibi and Grougal would be taking with them on their outing the next day; Alibert would tell him if there were special conditions he would have to keep in mind while dealing with these new guests.

"Four servings of gobball stew for tonight, and four of porridge and fruits early tomorrow morning," Alibert said as he entered the kitchen. "They'll need help getting supplies tomorrow too, so be ready to help them with that."

"So they're just passing through?" Yugo threw four steaks on the grills and started to cut up the vegetables. Even now he was wondering what might be troubling these strangers, and whether he might be able to help in any way.

"Yeah, heading for less populated parts," the worry was evident in Alibert's voice, and Yugo was about to ask what was wrong when his father continued. "They're running from the Red Plague."

"It hit their town?" Yugo almost dropped the knife as he turned to look at Alibert.

"No, but they mentioned something strange that made them think it would," Alibert replied. "She said that where the ivory ravens appear, the Red Plague follows."


	6. Echoes

"You did _what_?"

Yugo winced as the final word reached his ears. That was Adamaï's "patient" tone, not a good sign. He should have known better than to schedule the picnic without asking Adamaï first... "I'm sorry, Grougal was feeling so down it was the first thing I could come up with to cheer him up."

"Obviously," Adamaï's voice was bone dry, as it always was when he was disappointed with something Yugo had done. "So he was upset about you scolding him for attacking Qilby and you send him off on a picnic to apologize for being stern? You do realize that we had important training scheduled for him today, don't you?" he added.

"I'm sorry, I forgot and I should've asked you first," Yugo replied. "And it's not because of that," he snapped. "There's more to this than just him going after Qilby." He paused as he thought on how to relate to Adamaï what Grougal told him without messing it up somehow. "He said that he hears these..." Yugo waved a hand near his ear as he recalled what Grougal had called them. "Echoes whenever he sees Qilby, he's worried that he's going mad."

Adamaï's frown deepened at this news. "So why hasn't he told me before?" he asked.

"He's worried and probably _embarrassed _over it," Yugo replied. "This is the first time I've ever heard about it too, I think he just couldn't keep it bottled up anymore," he turned to the fire as he spoke and put a cauldron of water on to boil for the morning porridge, with a large kettle beside it for tea.

"Is that it? Just echoes?" Adamaï pushed off the table and moved a bit closer. "Did he tell you anything else about it?"

"He said he heard people screaming," Yugo turned to Adamaï as he spoke. "And that he knew they were real, and that it was Qilby's fault they were suffering," it sounded ridiculous when he said it aloud like this. _Ridiculous?_ he asked himself. _After what I've been through? I've run into things weirder than this._

"So what do you suggest we do about it?"

"Well, we could ask Qilby if—" Yugo began, but Adamaï cut him off.

"And how do we know he's telling the truth?"

Yugo turned to the cauldron again and restrained the urge to let out an annoyed sigh. "So even though we went through the trouble to put the collar on him you _still_ think he can lie?"

"How are we supposed to tell?" Adamaï asked, a little too patiently.

"So are we just going to go on ignoring the opportunity we have right in front of us?" Yugo glared into the pot as he poured in the oats. There was merit in taking what Qilby said with a grain of salt, collar or no, but he couldn't help but feel that part of this resistance was Adamaï nursing a grudge. "How long are we gonna have to flounder before we accept the help?"

Adamaï let out a loud grumbling sigh. "You know how Grougal will get if I tell him no," he said, going back to the initial topic. "Now I'm just going to have to push the training back to tomorrow."

"I'm _sorry_, Ad," Yugo said again. "I should've asked you first and I should've told you about the echoes yesterday." He fetched a spoon from where it hung on the wall nearby and gave the oats a stir, glaring down at the swirling mixture as he made sure they wouldn't get the chance to stick to the bottom of the pot.

"Guess there's nothing else to do but help around the inn today," Adamaï grumbled.

The dragon stalked off, to where Yugo didn't know until he checked the chore board. The boxes for woodcutting and tidying the guest rooms each had an 'A' written neatly inside them, meaning Adamaï had volunteered for those tasks for the day and would take care of them. Yugo was grateful for that, and hoped that Adamaï would be cooled down by the time they met up again later to ask Qilby about the echoes.

Yugo checked the porridge again; it would still be a while yet before it was done, plenty of time to see to the guests who were even now beginning to fill the common room. He found the family from the previous evening already seated around one of the round tables, and Fennius relaxing at one of the smaller tables near a corner of the room. The Eniripsa woman—Yugo guessed she was the mother of the little family—gave him a list of the supplies they would need for their journey when he asked. He scanned it as he walked up to Fennius's table.

"Anything you'd like before breakfast is ready, Fennius?" Yugo looked up from the slip of paper as he reached the table.

"Just some tea, if you don't mind," Fennius replied. His gaze settled on the family's table for a moment before he looked back to Yugo. "So what's the story with them? They seem very distressed over something."

Yugo glanced over his shoulder at the little group. It couldn't hurt to tell him... "They think the Red Plague is going to hit their hometown soon, so they left," he said as he turned back to face Fennius.

"Someone infected reached their town?"

"No, something about ivory ravens," Yugo replied. In truth he had been wanting to ask the family about it, but had restrained himself to avoid bringing up painful memories for them. There was simply no delicate way to broach the subject that Yugo could think of.

"Oooh," Fennius's eyes widened as he looked at the family again. "So they saw some of the cultists?"

"Cultists?" Yugo's full attention snapped back to Fennius at the word.

Fennius leaned in close to avoid being overheard. "I've seen them," he hissed in a conspiratorial whisper. "Mad worshippers of a god no one's ever heard of before." The Feca paused to see if Yugo had anything to add, and continued when he saw that he had the Eliatrope's undivided attention, "They're hunched figures covered in robes of red and white, wearing these masks with the beak of a raven and colored pale as bone."

A chill ran down Yugo's spine as his mind conjured its best attempt at imagining what these cultists would look like. "So, what do they do? What's this god they worship?"

"I only saw them for a few moments before they vanished, but people say they're responsible for making the plague spread to new regions. The fact that they turned up in their town," he nodded to the family. "Has me very worried. I hear they worship a god of sickness and malady, and that they believe they're giving the gift of enlightenment when they spread the plague," Fennius shook his head, a troubled frown on his face. "Can't tell you why anyone would believe that, though. Desperate or crazy, maybe. I don't know any normal person who would."

Yugo exhaled, having just realized that he was holding his breath throughout Fennius's entire explanation. To think there could actually be people consciously spreading the plague... It was almost too terrible to believe. "I'd uh, better get your tea," Yugo gave a nervous laugh and turned back toward the kitchen.

It was only once he was out of the common room that he noticed how tightly his hands were clutching the list. He relaxed his fingers and tried to smooth the creases out of the paper before checking the porridge; almost done, just enough time to serve the tea.

The chill that had settled on the skin of his spine while listening to Fennius followed him around the kitchen as he prepared tea for the guests. To think there could actually be people vile enough to spread that kind of suffering on purpose, and all for the sake of some god no one had ever heard of before. It twisted his stomach into a worried knot even as it roused the hollow flame of anger deep in his chest.

A few more guests had entered the common room by the time Yugo emerged with the tea tray in his arms, and he tended the family and Fennius first before seeing the others as well. Fennius accepted his tea with a smile and a "thank you" but said nothing else; it seemed he was done talking of the plague cult for now, but Yugo planned on asking him about it in more detail later. The porridge was ready by the time Yugo returned to the kitchen. He filled a large bowl for each table and set each on a tray with a set of bowls and a platter of fresh fruit to accompany them.

Adamaï had still not shown himself again by the time Yugo was finished helping the customers, and there was no evidence to suggest that he'd come by to have breakfast during Yugo's absence. Yugo sighed and checked the chore board again; even with the tasks Adamaï had volunteered for, there was still a lot that needed to be done. He would need to be sure Qilby and the doctors got breakfast, and he needed to talk to Qilby anyway.

Yugo found the three of them already at work when he entered Qilby's room. "Qilby?" Yugo asked as he set the breakfast-laden tray on a clear space at the desk. "We have a few questions about Grougal, if you have the time."

"I'll see when we can reach a stopping point," Qilby replied.

* * *

Qilby finally arrived at said stopping point around noon and met Yugo and Adamaï in the living room.

"You called?" he asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs and settling his hand in his lap.

"We needed to ask you about Grougal, from the past," Yugo said quickly as he took a seat across from the older Eliatrope.

Adamaï took a seat as well, though he remained silent as he watched Qilby. Yugo could see by his brother's body language-the squareness of his shoulders, his grip on the chair arm, even the slight downward dip to the corners of his mouth in a small intense frown-that Adamaï was not pleased to be here.

"Very well," Qilby nodded and waited expectantly for what Yugo had to ask.

"Grougal told me yesterday that he was hearing echoes, in his head," Yugo said. "We were wondering if you knew anything about that."

"Well it sounds like the two must be on track for their development, if that's what you mean," Qilby replied. At seeing Yugo's mystified expression he continued, "The echoes are normal with Grougaloragran. Didn't you ever wonder about his title, the Eternal? A bit egotistical but it speaks of his defining ability." He paused, apparently to let the news sink in, and became somewhat agitated when it was apparent that Yugo and Adamaï didn't know what he was talking about. "You don't—didn't Grougaloragran teach you about this?" he asked, turning to Adamaï.

"No, that wasn't one of the things he taught me," Adamaï said. Yugo could tell that his brother was already starting to become angry, and it wasn't just because he was talking to Qilby; Adamaï never took criticism of Grougal lightly. It was no surprise given that Grougal raised Adamaï, but even so it was an issue that his brother needed to make his peace with.

"He didn't..." Qilby lowered his gaze to the chair legs and pinched the bridge of his nose in genuine frustration, eyes shut tight as he came to terms with the news. "What was Grougaloragran _doing_ all the years he had you? How could he be so _incompetent_?"

"How dare you," Adamaï snarled, his eyes widening with anger as he bared his teeth and leaned forward.

"How dare I?" Qilby sat back in his chair and gestured to the collar on his neck with a wave of his hand, as if this should have been obvious. "I cannot sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much you want me to," he snapped, matching Adamaï's glare with one of his own as he leaned forward as well.

"That's not the only thing you coat it with," Adamaï shot back.

"_Enough,_" Yugo leaned between the two, breaking their eye contact. "Can we please get back on topic?"

"Very well," Qilby slouched slightly and continued. "Each member of the council has something that defines them. Yugo," he gestured to Yugo. "Has the Hero's Heart. You, Adamaï," he turned to Adamaï this time. "Have the Tactician's Mind." Qilby leaned back in the chair. "Chibi and Grougaloragran have their own traits: Chibi sees Glimpses of the Future through visions and dreams; Grougaloragran hears Echoes of the Past which warn him of dire threats he has encountered before."

"So the fact that he hears them when he sees you—" Yugo started.

"It means that I've been written in as a major threat that he encountered in the past," Qilby finished, a disappointed expression on his face, as if he'd been hoping such would not be the case. "Such threat memory is a bit redundant with someone such as myself around but it does have its uses," he grumbled.

"Yes, especially when you've made yourself such a massive threat to your own kind," Adamaï said.

"So it's normal and we shouldn't worry?" Yugo asked, trying to move the conversation along before Qilby and Adamaï could get into an argument.

"Yes, it's normal with Grougaloragran."

"So what should we do about the echoes he hears when he sees you?"

Qilby contemplated this for a few moments. "There's no way to erase or rewrite Grougaloragran's threat memory as far as I know," he replied. "All that can be done is to keep him away as much as possible." He blinked as a thought struck him. "Oh, do you know if Chibi has started getting visions yet? They tend to start around the same time that Grougaloragran's echoes do."

"Not that I know of," Yugo replied.

"So, all things are normal with Grougal, keep him away from Qilby, end of discussion," Adamaï said, starting to get to his feet.

"We're not done yet," Qilby said, raising his hand as if to stop Adamaï. "There's still the matter of training."

"You just said Grougal needed to be kept away from—"

"I'm not talking about Grougaloragran's training," Qilby cut in. "_You two_ need to be properly trained. And please, tell me exactly what happened to Phaeris. What killed him?"

"Jiva," Yugo replied. "She was after our Dofus. Phaeris died while fighting her."

The growing outrage at some outsider even _considering_ touching their Dofus was clearly visible on Qilby's face as he asked, "And she's from this planet?"

Yugo nodded.

"_This _is why," Qilby said. "You two need to be properly trained so you can't be pushed around by the residents of this planet anymore."

"And whose fault is it that things got this bad, that we lost our place on this planet?" Adamaï snapped, leaning so far forward that he was almost standing up. "The Eliatrope race lost the right to live here because of _you_," he jabbed an accusatory finger at Qilby as he spoke. "And then our relations with the people of this planet went south because _you _stole the Eliacube, brought a shushu invasion to their doorstep, and tried to destroy the World of Twelve."

"_Adamaï_," Yugo put a hand between them, pushing Adamaï back down on his chair.

Qilby's face had gone red by the time the young Eliatrope turned back to look at him, though whether from anger or shame Yugo couldn't tell. "I have not forgotten, Adamaï," he said finally, voice low and rough. "I _cannot_ _forget_."

"Come on," Yugo got to his feet and grabbed Adamaï's arm. He then wordlessly dragged his brother out of the room, where Qilby would not be able to hear. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he hissed once they came to a stop.

"Reminding him of his place," Adamaï replied cooly, his back straight and rigid as he looked down at Yugo.

"And who does that help?" Yugo pushed himself up as high as he could, but he was still nowhere near his brother's impressive height. "Besides you," he added as Adamaï opened his mouth. "It looks like Grougal isn't the only one having a problem with grudges here."

"Why are you defending him?" Adamaï asked in disbelief. "Have you _forgotten _what he did to us? What he did to our people?"

"I'll never forget that, Adamaï," Yugo replied, his voice quiet. "But rubbing his face in it _every chance you get_ doesn't help anyone, it's just going to push him away and make it _more_ likely for him to betray us first chance he gets."

"So you want us to baby him?" Adamaï scoffed.

"I want us to be _understanding_," Yugo replied patiently, closing his eyes for a moment to calm his growing anger at Adamaï's dismissiveness. "He isn't proud of what he did."

"Oh thank goodness for that," Adamaï said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"I'm serious, Adamaï," Yugo kept his composure despite Adamaï's mockery. "We have to be careful with this. We can't afford to chase him away again."

"Again?" Adamaï uncrossed his arms and braced his hands on his hips. "You honestly believe that sob story he fed you in Emrub?"

"He was..." Yugo paused as he thought back on the sad, pathetic figure he faced at the end of it all in Emrub. "Stripped of everything by then, he couldn't hide anymore. I think he was telling the truth." He hoped that Adamaï would see reason soon, this entire exchange was beginning to exhaust him. "And why are you suddenly so against this when _you _suggested letting him out in the first place?"

"I'm having second thoughts," Adamaï cast a glance toward their right, at the door that led to the living room, but found no evidence of Qilby having moved from his spot.

"Why?" Yugo crossed his arms over his chest as he asked the question.

"The footprints outside his window, we can't tell if the collar is actually working..." Adamaï began. "And how do we even know he's making progress on finding a cure?"

"So you want to send him back?"

Adamaï remained silent as he really thought on the question. "No," he said finally, and his shoulders drooped slightly in defeat. Another silence followed as Adamaï collected his thoughts. "I'm not like you, Yugo," he said, staring sidelong at the floor rather than looking his brother in the eye. "I can't trust him. And sometimes he just makes me angry so easily," his fist clenched as he spoke, then relaxed again. "I still can't forgive him for what he did."

"I'm not asking for you to forgive him," Yugo relaxed his arms, allowing his hands to drop to his sides. "He's not the only issue here, I'm worried about _you_," he added. "I'm saddened, and _concerned_ about the fact that my brother is willing to torment someone he has at his mercy."

Adamaï's head snapped back to Yugo at the final statement, an expression of horror on his face at the realization of what he'd been doing. "I'm sorry, Yugo," his gaze drifted to the floor again, as he felt too ashamed to look his brother in the eye. "Just look at me. I'm no better than Grougal, right? And I don't even have the echoes to blame," his shoulder hit the wall with a soft _bump _as he slumped over. "It's pathetic."

"It's okay, Ad," Yugo put a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I understand why you don't trust him, and why you're still angry," his gaze settled temporarily on the dark scar that still marked Adamaï's left eye, and the horrible memory of seeing his brother taken by a shushu came swimming back into clarity. "Qilby did unforgivable things to you and to our people, but you shouldn't bring yourself lower just to get back at him."

A nod was all that Yugo got in reply, but it was enough. He knew Adamaï agreed with him now.

"Let's get back in there and finish up the conversation," Yugo removed his hand from Adamaï's shoulder and smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt. "We've let Qilby stew in there long enough."

Qilby himself looked haggard and tired by the time Yugo and Adamaï returned to the room, as if reflecting the way Adamaï felt. His chin was resting in his hand in a way that kept his mouth from view, though whether this was intentional or not Yugo couldn't say. He slowly brought his eyes up to Yugo's face as the two sat across from him again, and waited for what they had to say.

"We'll take the training," Yugo said once he had Qilby's attention.

"Alright," Qilby lowered his hand and nodded. "We'll start tomorrow, during one of my breaks."

* * *

The hall felt uncomfortably small as Qilby walked back to his room. Doctors Pirwit and Korden were elsewhere now, since Qilby had given them leave while he had his discussion with Yugo and Adamaï. They likely wouldn't be there when he got to his room, and he felt regret for having sent them away; he needed something to fill the silence and drown out thoughts of anything besides his work.

Qilby stumbled as the toe of his boot caught against the well-worn floorboards. He continued on, consciously picking up his feet more as he walked. These shoes were so heavy compared to his usual pair, it made dragging his feet so much easier. The new clothes were as baggy as his old but somehow felt heavier, too. Everything felt heavier now, completely earthbound...

He lifted a hand to his head for what felt like the hundredth time—in reality it was only number twentysix, he remembered—and touched the place where his wings should have been. Their absence and walking around with his head exposed felt so uncomfortably strange. Even without his perfect memory there was no way to escape that constant reminder of what he'd done, and what he was being punished for. And yet Adamaï still felt the need to _remind_ him of that, to dig the thorn in even deeper.

It didn't seem fair, but then the fact that he was currently free of the Blank Dimension wasn't fair either now was it? Life was unfair. His entire existence was unfair. If he'd just been born like his brethren, able to be reborn with a clean slate each time, he wouldn't have had to suffer for thousands of years as he was forgotten again and again. The planet wouldn't have felt so small, he wouldn't have taken the extreme measures he did to escape...

Qilby shoved the thoughts aside as he reached the doorway to his room. Regrets like _that_ were utterly worthless. There was no use dwelling on what could never be changed. And oh, how he'd tried to change it over the long millennia of his existence. Even in the instances where he'd managed to erase the memories without killing himself in the process, they somehow always managed to come back within a few days of their erasure. _Every single time_. He learned long ago that his condition was inescapable, but that was still no excuse for what he'd done.

Something to fill the time... Qilby walked over to his desk and retrieved a pen and paper. Lesson plans for Yugo and Adamaï, that would be enough to hold him over until Doctors Pirwit and Korden came back. Reading and writing always helped him think. He could probably expect a question about that from Yugo or Adamaï sometime in the near future; people always found it so strange that someone with a perfect memory would still have need of such things until he explained why.

A thick lock of golden-brown hair slid off his shoulder and landed on the paper as he leaned forward. Qilby glared at down at the lock for a moment, then flicked it aside and continued. The long hair was becoming a problem with only one arm. It would have to be cut, it would only become more of a problem once he actually had proper equipment to work with. The beard was getting in the way as well, in a more persistent way than his hair managed to. There was no point to keeping it this long anyway...

There would be no scissors or knives in his room, Qilby knew. Yugo and Adamaï wouldn't be so careless as to leave such things within his reach, even though Qilby had already noticed exactly nine ways in which he could purposely injure himself or someone else just in this room alone, and that was without even seriously looking. Besides, even if there were scissors he would only make a complete hack job of the trim in the end; the hair was in the way but that was no reason to leave it looking uneven and ugly.

Qilby paused in his writing and leaned back in the chair. Doctors Pirwit and Korden would likely find his asking them to cut his hair suspicious and go to Yugo and Adamaï about it, so the quickest course of action would be to go straight to the twins. He hoped Yugo would be easy to find, he lacked strength to deal with Adamaï any more today. Grougaloragran's physical attacks were bad but still tolerable, while Adamaï's words always managed to hit him where it hurt most.

Might as well get it over with. Qilby pushed himself away from the desk, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor. There was no sign of anyone out in the hall, fortunately no Grougaloragran but unfortunately no Yugo either. He paused and considered where Yugo might be at this hour. The kitchen seemed to be his safest bet since he'd noticed Yugo spending a lot of time helping his adoptive father there.

To Qilby's relief he spotted Yugo by the grill as he walked in the door, only to have that relief dampened when Adamaï walked into view carrying a basket of fresh vegetables.

Adamaï was the first to notice the newcomer, and he gave Qilby a hard stare before turning to his brother, "Yugo, Qilby's here."

Yugo looked over his shoulder at them, then turned when he spotted Qilby. "Something wrong?" he asked, giving Qilby a look of honest concern.

"Oh," Qilby felt his face began to heat up as he realized how silly and superficial his request would seem. _Just get it over with._ "My hair has been getting in the way," he held up a long strand as he spoke. "I wanted to ask if you could cut it."

"Well," Yugo glanced at Adamaï, an unspoken request for permission in his eyes.

"I can take over for now," the dragon replied with a shrug. Indifferent as Adamaï seemed now, Qilby was certain that Adamaï would be keeping an ear on them from the kitchen, especially with how heated things were earlier.

"Thanks Ad," Yugo gave his brother a smile and left the grill. He paused at the kitchen table to pick up a chair—a bit of a hassle given that every chair in the set was as tall as he was—and led Qilby out into the early afternoon sunlight. "I'll be _right _back," Yugo set the chair down and disappeared indoors again, off to find a pair of scissors.

Qilby took in the view of the inn's back yard, which was empty for the moment, then took a seat in the chair. _Ah, sunlight..._ The same star which had shed its daytime light on the fall of the Eliatrope people still shared its warmth with the World of Twelve today. Sunlight was another thing he'd dearly missed while trapped in that empty hell. He relaxed, slowly leaning back in the chair as he closed his eyes. _Take a moment, enjoy the sunlight..._

The door opened and closed behind him, and then there came the scuff of Yugo's shoes against the stones. Yugo's footsteps stopped abruptly at the side of the chair, and after a small pause there was a hollow, wooden sound as something was placed on the ground just behind the chair. It took Qilby a few moments to work out what it was.

_A box!_ Qilby resisted the urge to grin though the ghost of a laugh escaped him in the form of a small gust of breath. And Yugo had managed to remember it the first time, too—in previous incarnations it usually it took two trips for him to think of that, especially around this age.

"_Qilby_?" Yugo whispered. It seemed he thought Qilby was asleep since he was sitting so quietly.

"Yes, I'm awake," Qilby opened his eyes and looked to his left, where Yugo now stood.

"How short?" the young Eliatrope held up the scissors and a comb with a slightly worried look on his face, and Qilby wondered how often he'd been asked to cut someone's hair in this lifetime. Looking at Yugo's own rough haircut again made him wonder if it was the best idea to let him do it.

"Shoulder length, just try to keep it even," Qilby looked to the front and closed his eyes again. Nothing to do now but hope Yugo would be able to keep the scissors under control while he worked.

The teeth of the comb pressed against Qilby's scalp, and were wrenched down with enough force to jerk his head back. Qilby's eyes snapped open in a glare and he sat forward to get his hair out of Yugo's reach.

"Sorry!" Yugo said, holding his hands away from the chair as Qilby glared back at him.

"You don't know how to deal with long hair, do you?"

"Not really," Yugo pointed to his own short hair and gave Qilby an innocent shrug.

Qilby sighed through his nose and rolled his eyes. "Short strokes as you work your way down," he turned back to the front and leaned back in the chair again, bracing himself for the hair yanking that was sure to follow.

Yugo took Qilby's advice and was able to continue with a minimum of actual hair-pulling, though there were moments painful enough for Qilby to wince when the young Eliatrope hit a tangle. Finally Yugo moved on to using the scissors, which was gentle enough for Qilby to close his eyes again. A soft rustle followed each rasp of the scissors as a swath of hair hit the ground. It seemed Yugo was opting to go for big clumps as he cut it short, it was sloppy but as long as the hair was relatively even in the end Qilby didn't care what method Yugo used.

The rasp of the scissors had reached the area just in front of Qilby's ear when he heard a sharp intake of breath from Yugo.

"_Oops_."

That wasn't the sort of thing one wanted to hear when someone was cutting their hair. Qilby opened his eyes and looked at Yugo.

"I made it too short," Yugo said apologetically as held up a lock of Qilby's hair, the one that normally hung just in front of his ear. The long length of its severed part now rested on the ground beside the chair.

"Just make the other one match," Qilby said with a disinterested shrug. He turned back to the yard before him, indicating that Yugo was free to carry on.

Yugo hesitated, probably afraid of making another mistake, then double checked the length of Qilby's hair and moved on to finish the job. Qilby had to admit that he was... _Impressed_ with the current Yugo now that he was able to see the boy living the normal day to day. Previous incarnations wouldn't have mentioned the mistake and would have ploughed ahead regardless. Very strange. There was a certain degree of arrogance that tended to characterize all the previous Yugos, and it was odd to find that it no longer held so much sway over the boy. That suggested upbringing had something to do with it, which was honestly quite embarrassing on the part of Qilby and those who had raised Yugo in the past; somehow they had managed to consistently raise him with that bloated sense of pride intact, to the point that Qilby assumed it was just a natural part of the boy's character.

The sharp rasp of the scissors sounded one last time by Qilby's left ear. "Done," Yugo said as he stepped off the box.

Qilby lifted his hand to the back of his head and ran his fingers through his hair. As he had asked, it stopped abruptly around shoulder length and was even fairly straight from what he could feel. He planned on finding a way to tie it back anyway, no need for it to be perfect. Just one last thing... "The beard too, please," Qilby added.

"Oh," Yugo stepped around to the front. "How short?"

"Just don't cut my chin off in the process," Qilby leaned forward, the collar shifting slightly as he did. He kept an eye on Yugo as the young Eliatrope took the beard in one hand and raised the scissors in the other.

Three strokes with the scissors and most of the beard Qilby had worn through the millenia was gone. Qilby ran his fingers over the scruffy goatee as he sat back. A strange sense of loss hovered over him as he considered what he must look like now. "Thank you, Yugo," he said, his mind already drifting elsewhere. "This will be much more convenient."

Qilby stood, and a few stray locks of hair fell from his shoulders and onto the stones below. The chair itself and the box that still stood behind it were surrounded by a partial circle of the same golden brown strands. There was that feeling of disconnection again, like he was adrift. He looked down at Yugo, who stood silently as he watched Qilby. There was an unspoken question in the boy's eyes: _Are you alright?_

"It's..." Qilby struggled against the collar's influence, trying to put the feeling to words in a way that would be less personal. The concern was appreciated, but that was still far from enough to make Qilby want to open up completely. So much was still up in the air, undecided. They could still send him right back to the Blank Dimension in the end once he'd served his current purpose... "Different," he said finally.

* * *

Adamaï threw himself down on the shady patch of grass with a sigh of relief and a loud _thwump_. He honestly hadn't been expecting Qilby's lessons to be so tiring, but the old Eliatrope had not been joking when he told them they had a lot to catch up on. For Adamaï it had been breath exercises: as Qilby explained soon after the lesson began, dragons could dictate the accuracy and spread of their breath attacks merely through the way they shaped their lips, an extremely useful ability in a wide variety of battle situations. Simple, Adamaï had thought when he heard it, and had found that it was much harder than he anticipated when directed to try it himself.

Yugo flopped down beside his brother, grateful for the shade and the cool grass beneath. Between breath shots—which had been clumsy and too wide judging by the accuracy Qilby described—Adamaï had seen Yugo practicing acrobatics and smooth gliding movements that at first appeared similar to dancing. These had been so strenuous that Yugo was still a bit out of breath, but by the tired smile on his face Adamaï could tell that his brother was satisfied with what he'd learned that day.

"So what'd he have you doing?" Adamaï shifted so that he could lay on his side as he asked the question, genuinely curious about what his brother learned.

"Flow exercises," Yugo said, his face still aglow with enthusiasm. "We can change the flow of the Wakfu around us," he made another of the flowing gestures to illustrate how this was done. "What about you?"

"Breath attacks," Adamaï replied, hoping that Yugo wouldn't ask how it went. He felt embarrassed for not being able to master something that seemed so easy.

"Nice! How was it?"

Just the question he was hoping wouldn't be asked... "Harder than I thought," Adamaï replied.

"Same with mine," Yugo added, tucking his knees up against his chest as he watched Alibert and his guests bustle around the inn's outdoor patio. "But I feel like I still learned a lot."

The two had just dozed off when the sound of footsteps in the grass roused them. They looked up to find Qilby standing over them, a small bundle of paper in his hand.

"Alright you two, that's a long enough break," Qilby said.

"What do you mean?" Yugo rocked into a seated position. "Are we gonna do more training?"

"Your physical abilities aren't all that needs work," Qilby replied, waving the bundle of paper at them. "You still need to learn Draconic, Yugo, and I'm sure that Adamaï needs to brush up on his tactics. Intuition will only get you so far."

* * *

**[Subtle interference ineffective. Subject rapidly nearing cure for plague, will likely find one once equipment arrives. Requesting permission for elimination.]**

**{Denied. Shipment has already been compromised. Archaeologists still debating on Revered Inventor issue, more evidence required to reach conclusion. Other agents will begin pushing them toward Bonta. Be ready to move.}**

* * *

It was the dead of night in the forests surrounding Emelka. Moonlight shafted down through the canopy, dappling the leafy floor in pale silver as the beasts of nighttime went about their usual business. The sigh of the breeze through the trees and the occasional rustle above or yelp from below were all that could be heard in the peace of night.

Something large pushed through the undergrowth, and every nearby creature froze and shrank away into the nearest hiding place as it passed them by. Twigs caught at deep crimson robes and slid past, and dappled moonlight reflected off of the carved beak of a bone-white mask as the figure swept through clearing and thicket alike, bound for some destination with a single minded determination. Two more appeared from the mottled shadows, following in the wake of the first. They walked with a slight slouch to their shoulders, as if lacking the strength to stand fully upright, and with their arms held close to their chest and nearly lost in the mass of folded fabric that covered their bodies so completely.

The figures vanished as swiftly as they appeared, and the beasts of the forest soon resumed their nighttime routine. Had any possessed the curiosity to see where these intruders might be headed they would have found that they were bound in the direction of the only town for miles around: Emelka, sleeping dark and peaceful beneath the stars.


End file.
